Hope to Die
by Bluesunkatsuri
Summary: In the turmoil of war and its aftermath, Germany learns that it's hard to let go of your past. Prussia learns that it is even harder to let go of your future. *Historical Hetalia part 4, German history part 2. Sequel to Cross Your Heart*
1. Chapter 1

**So here goes another part of Historical Hetalia: Hope to Die.  
This will follow Germany and Prussia from the build-up to the two World Wars to their aftermath. It's the sequeal to Cross Your Heart, which was abuot Prussia's life before Germany came into existence, and honestly, I really advise reading that before Hope to Die. Certain things here will be hard to follow if you haven't read CYH. There will also be overlap with earlier parts of Historical Hetalia, Rising and Trouble, which were about Irish history from the Easter Rising through to the end of the Troubles. And with 'overlap' I mean that certain events from Rising and Trouble involving the German brothers will be the same in this story, but from a different perspective.**

 **So yeah, let's get this started!**

 **Thank you for clicking on my story, and I hope you'll enjoy it!**

* * *

One early afternoon in 1896, the Kingdom of Prussia stepped onto the porch of a house, his little brother by his side. Germany, a child of 25 years old but 7 by appearance and by heart, looked happy to be here. They'd both been invited over to the Netherlands by their cousin, as the small country knew very well that his little cousin Germany enjoyed the Dutch beaches a lot. They were generally warmer than anything he had within his own borders. Prussia wasn't such a fan of them, which he had his reasons for, but he did like the time off he got and preferred not to spend that time at home where his leaders might still find him and drop a massive workload on him when they got the chance. It was hard work managing an empire all on his own, and he hoped Germany would soon be old enough to start working a bit as well.  
The albino hadn't even needed to knock on the door; it was opened just a second after he and Germany had reached it. Belgium was smiling wide. "Hi!" she greeted them both happily. Always in a good mood, that girl. Prussia more often than not enjoyed talking to her. "I came this way when I heard you were coming," she said quickly as she stepped aside to let her two German cousins in. "Lux is here, too, but he'll be leaving again tonight." Prussia just smiled at her, ready to say a greeting as well, but Belgium was already hugging Germany in her usual enthusiastic manner. "Oh, I've missed my favourite little cousin, I really have!" It wasn't hard for Germany to be her favourite little cousin; he was, after all, the only one she had.  
Poor Germany looked like he was choking, exaggerating on that when he greeted her as well, feigning a severe lack of oxygen. Well… maybe it wasn't all fake.  
Belgium just apologised and then gave Prussia the same treatment. "Hi, Bel," he choked out, chuckling a bit. "Long time no see, huh? I know, I would miss awesomeness like me, too, if I were you."  
Just then, Netherlands appeared in the doorway to the living room as well, telling his sister not to strangle their guests before they were very well inside. Belgium rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath as she closed the door, and meanwhile Prussia and Germany already headed to the living room. Greeting Luxembourg and Netherlands went a lot more smoothly; most of all it was without potential death by choking.  
"You're growing up quickly, Ludwig," Netherlands commented as he got them all some coffee –orange juice for the young empire. "Nations nowadays really do grow up more quickly than we used to, don't they, Gil?"  
Prussia just nodded, though in his case it wasn't entirely true; he'd been this physical age by the true age of 19. But then, not many nations seemed to know how old he really was. Not many seemed to care, either. He knew that the United Kingdom, for one, thought of him as much older than he was. But he didn't care; with nations, age was status, status was respect. If they wanted to give him more credit than he deserved in that particular way, he would only cheer them on.  
Belgium then turned to Prussia, smiling. "So?" she asked him, her green eyes sparkling. "Are you coming with us this time?"  
Prussia chuckled and shook his head. "Not a good idea, I'm afraid. I'd look like a lobster." His reason for disliking beaches was very simple: his albinism. Belgium just didn't want to accept that as being a reason for Prussia to stay home when they would spend time together. He never had any trouble getting a sunburn, it didn't have any consequences for his health, it was just uncomfortable.  
"Hey, someone as awesome as me, I can entertain myself," Prussia just said, sitting back comfortably. "You go splash around in salt and burn your skin, I'll just-" He broke off then, coughing harshly. He'd had this annoying cough for a few days now, and after so long, it was starting to hurt his lungs just coughing.  
Germany sighed from where he sat between Belgium and Luxembourg, looking at his big brother sadly. "He's been doing that all week," he mumbled with a huff, clearly displeased. But he didn't seem to realise how troublesome it was to Prussia himself, too, much to the older nation's frustration. How to explain to him that Prussia wasn't feeling well, that he was in pain because of how long it had lasted? Germany had never been sick before, he wouldn't really understand until he'd felt it himself.  
Luxembourg narrowed his eyes when Prussia finally stopped coughing, a bit more worried than his young cousin was. "Maybe it _is_ best if you stayed home," he mumbled thoughtfully. "Why would you even come here if you're not well?"  
"Because Ludwig wanted to come," Prussia answered dismissively, not really thinking much of it. He'd been sick before, and he could take it. He could take _anything._ He hadn't worried for a second yet. "It's not so bad, it's just a cough, really. I'm awesome enough not to be bothered by such a trivial thing."  
Netherlands hummed, also not too worried. "Just promise to take it easy while we're away," he said calmly, his voice monotonous. "I'm sure that, whether it's just a little cold or worse, having been on the road for two days hasn't made it any better."  
"Yeah, yeah," Prussia huffed, rolling his red eyes. "Spare me the nonsense."  
Netherlands didn't pay any attention to the albino's muttering, and instead turned to Germany. "Are you ready to go out again, Ludwig?" The little boy nodded excitedly, and half an hour later Prussia was alone again.  
He sighed and sat back on the couch, staring at the wall agitatedly. _When am I_ _ **not**_ _alone?_ he wondered angrily. Most of his life had been like this, and even now, when he had Germany by his side almost constantly, he was still lonely more often than not. The Prussian began to doubt that he would ever not feel all alone.

* * *

Germany's legs were tingling by the time he and the Benelux countries came to Netherlands home again. The sun was low in the sky, but it would be some hours yet until sunset. He'd been playing around in the sea for a while, and then they'd decided to take a walk. By now, the little boy was quite tired, but just like his elder brother, he never showed it much.  
Luxembourg sighed as Netherlands stuck his key into his door to open it. "I wonder if Prussia hasn't wrecked the house," he muttered under his breath. "That seems like just the thing for him to do."  
"While he's sick?" Belgium put in, giving her brother a playful shove. "I doubt it." Netherlands told them once again to just be quiet, like he'd had to do several times that afternoon, and opened the door, walking in without so much as a glance at his two siblings. Germany smiled at this. He understood by now that it wasn't so much that the three didn't like each other, because they did, it was just their way of interacting with one another. It was very different from Germany's relationship with Prussia; the kingdom could be very affectionate toward his little brother, but sometimes he got angry, not at Germany but just in general, and then he would sometimes snap at Germany a bit as well. Never much, though, so the little empire didn't mind. He was used to it after all these years.  
Germany followed his cousins inside and pushed the door closed behind him before Luxembourg could do it for him, then went into the living room after them.  
His happiness dampened a bit when he saw his big brother asleep on the couch. Netherlands and Belgium, having come into the living room a few seconds before Germany and Luxembourg, were whispering to each other with glances at Prussia, but it was in Dutch, and Germany didn't know that language yet. He just huffed, annoyed that he didn't understand them, then walked past the two to wake Prussia. There was so much he wanted to tell him about what he'd missed! But Belgium stopped him. "Let him sleep, sweetie," she said in a hushed voice and with a warm smile, but anxiety flashed in her green eyes. "You can tell him everything when he wakes up."  
Luxembourg then patted his head, and Germany looked up at him instead. "How about I teach you some more Dutch? You know how to introduce yourself, right?"  
Germany nodded; that was all he knew how to say in Dutch, and he did want to learn more. With one last glance at Prussia, he followed the youngest of the three Benelux siblings to the table for his lesson.

In the minutes after that, Netherlands and Belgium talked a bit more, Belgium appearing to be very persistent about something and Netherlands grudgingly agreeing in the end. He went out then, and Germany asked what he was going to do. Neither Luxembourg nor Belgium answered that question, and the child crossed his arms over his chest with a huff. Why wasn't he allowed to know? Belgium knelt down beside Prussia and gently shook him. _She told me not to wake him just minutes ago!_ It was unfair.  
Prussia opened his eyes to slits, grumpily looking at her, his gaze softening a bit when he saw who had woken him up. Belgium talked to him in a hushed voice, and again in Dutch. Prussia answered in German, though. "That's really not necessary, Bel." He sat up, almost immediately coughing again. It sounded worse than before. But still, whatever Belgium had told him, he shook his head when she insisted on it.  
The argument went on a moment longer, and Belgium eventually stood up again and just walked away. "Suit yourself; brother's on his way already, anyway." Prussia didn't look at her as she left, instead grumpily staring at the wall. And then he coughed again.  
Luxembourg tapped Germany on the shoulder to get the child's attention again. "Was your brother this bad before?" he asked softly, adding when Germany didn't seem to understand: "Has the coughing gotten worse?"  
"Clearly," Germany muttered, turning away. Why were they making such a fuss? It was just a cough. Prussia didn't worry either, so why should they?  
"So, learning Dutch, are we?" Prussia's voice then came from behind Germany, and the young child was almost startled by it. The Prussian chuckled when the young child stared at him wide-eyed. He then ruffled Germany's hair, and the boy ducked away from that with an agitated huff. Prussia only blinked at him for a moment, looking almost hurt by that; Germany didn't want him to do that more often, but he never seemed angry about it. "What's wrong?"  
Germany was silent for a moment, staring at the table, then gave in. "I want you to stop being sick," he confessed softly. Prussia immediately replied that he wanted that, too. Germany nodded, glad that at least they agreed about that. "You're no fun like this."  
Prussia didn't seem to like that part of the comment, but Germany didn't know what was wrong about it. His brother had always taught him he should tell the truth and now he did. Wasn't that good? "Ludwig, if it's only because you don't _like_ it, that's not a very nice thing to say," he said in his 'correcting voice'. Germany hated that one, it meant he'd done something wrong. But Prussia just went on with his explanation of why he didn't like it that his little brother had said that. "If you weren't feeling well," he said calmly, "would you like it if I wanted you to feel better just to have fun with you again? Or would you rather have me wanting you to get better for your sake?"  
"…That last one, I suppose."  
"Good boy," the kingdom said with more warmth in his voice already, before giving his little brother a peck on his head and sitting down at the table with him and Luxembourg. And then he coughed yet again.  
Luxembourg cringed at the sound. "It certainly has gotten worse," he commented with a grimace. "It's good that Lars has gone out to-"  
"Once again," Prussia interrupted his younger cousin, rolling his eyes, "that's all completely unnecessary. I know what's caused this, I don't need someone else just making dumb assumptions." After that he didn't seem to want to talk about it one second longer, but Luxembourg still nodded.  
He did see sense in Prussia's comment, at least. "But still," he put in, "some meds wouldn't hurt."  
 _Oh._ Germany now understood what Netherlands was doing; he was getting some medicine for Prussia. Well, that wasn't too bad. His brother still disliked the idea, clearly.

Germany understood Prussia's attitude concerning this when Netherlands didn't just bring home simple medicine, but actually a physician. That was the one part he had gotten wrong, then, in guessing what all that secrecy was about. Prussia only grudgingly agreed to be checked, and only 'because the man took the trouble to come here', as he said.  
Germany sat watching from a distance, curious; he'd never seen a physician at work yet, and it was fascinating. The man sat down beside Prussia on the couch, pressing a small metal object to the kingdom's chest and putting the two other ends of it in his ears. Prussia, with an annoyed expression, only breathed and didn't say a thing. Why? What was this for? Next he put the thing away and lightly touched Prussia's forehead. Now this was something Germany did know; checking his temperature. Prussia muttered something at this, and though he didn't understand the words all that well, Germany guessed that it was something along the lines of 'not necessary' yet again. The human replied calmly to this, and Germany bit the inside of his lips. _Why can't they just speak German!_ Sometimes he wished the whole world spoke German all the time. Then he wouldn't have to put an effort into learning other languages.  
Eventually he asked what was going on, and Prussia answered that he had to be patient for a moment. From here on, now knowing that he was dealing with a German, the physician switched to that language instead. "Well, it certainly _was_ a good idea to get this checked out, sir," he said calmly, putting his stuff into his bag again. "It is in no way 'nothing to worry about'. Also…" He looked up at Prussia now, looking curious all of a sudden. "You're… not blind?"  
Prussia didn't respond for a moment, only staring at the human with disbelief in his eyes. Then, a soft mutter: "Clearly not."  
"Your eyes-"  
"Are _fine._ " The Prussian seemed to get more annoyed with the second now. Germany shrunk back in his chair; his brother was starting to look like his angry self, the side of him when he was pacing around the house and muttering under his breath about things that Germany didn't understand a word about. Usually it was something about 'making them pay', but Germany was certain no one owed Prussia any money, so he didn't get it.  
The human didn't seem to catch that quite yet. He asked permission for something but went through with it without even waiting for Prussia's consent. He lifted both of Prussia's hands in turn and inspected them intently. "No traces of sunburn anywhere…" he mumbled under his breath. "Fascinating." He then looked Prussia in the eyes again. The kingdom allowed him to do whatever it was he was doing, but also didn't try and hide his annoyance. "Have you ever had weird blisters on your skin, sir?" the physician asked, astounded when Prussia shook his head. "Marks of any kind? No?" He was clearly positively amazed at that knowledge, and stated then: "Well, sir, you are _remarkably healthy._ Err, aside from the obvious chest infection, of course."  
Prussia sighed now, and his eyes said only one thing: 'What a dumb jerk'. "You don't say…"  
"As for the infection," the human then went on, grabbing something else from his bag, a small bottle with liquid. "Two doses a day should go a long way already. Make sure not to do anything straining in the coming days, and you should be fine."  
Prussia snatched the bottle from his hand and got up wordlessly, leaving the room with quick, angry paces.  
The human stared after him in silent shock, and Belgium went his way with an apologetic smile. This time, finally, Luxembourg translated for Germany. "She's telling him that Prussia never takes comments about his albinism well. The physician was… offending him."  
"Anyone could see that," Germany huffed. He didn't like this human for being so mean to his brother.  
Netherlands then reluctantly paid the human, who, a little disgruntled, went on his way again.

* * *

Prussia didn't come back until half an hour later, still pissed. "I don't know what is worse!" he complained to his three cousins, glaring murderously at the door as though he was staring at the physician still. "I mean, when I was little people declared me cursed and more than once sent priests my way for an exorcism, then they finally found out it's something _medical_ but they didn't understand one shit about it so every physician wanted to test me if they could –my monarchs wouldn't allow it, thank goodness- and now they _do_ understand more and… _this!_ Ugh, I swear!"  
Netherlands didn't look too impressed by it, and Belgium was just trying to get Prussia to calm down, apologising that they'd gotten the man there in the first place –they'd only wanted to be helpful.  
Prussia sighed then, looking sullen. "I don't want people telling me that I'm supposed to be blind and sick and helpless, because _I'm not._ " He then got a defiant gleam in his eyes, and Germany smiled. That was his brother as he knew him. Ever the stubborn jackass, in the best way possible. "I'm the most awesome person to have ever walked the Earth! And some shitty political and economic troubles can't get me down, either!"  
"No, but maybe it can get you into bed early for one night?" Belgium giggled, shaking her head. The entire atmosphere seemed to brighten at this, and Germany was glad of it. He didn't like it when his big brother was angry all the time, but that was just who he was: one moment he was nice and fun, the next moment he could scare Germany with his muttering and his angry gaze.  
Prussia shrugged. "Perhaps, if it makes you three stop complaining. I feel _fine_ , honestly. And what use was it getting a human here, anyway?" he asked then, looking genuinely confused about it. " _They_ wouldn't know what has caused this, _I_ know all the ins and outs of this damn infection and its cause."  
This piqued Germany's interest. Prussia hadn't talked about this all week yet. "What caused you to be sick?" he asked innocently, hoping he would get an answer that way. Prussia was always more willing to answer if he didn't sound too demanding, after all.  
But the kingdom dismissed him almost immediately. "Very complicated political stuff, Ludwig, I'll explain it all to you one day. Just not now." Then he went on to talk to his three cousins again, about other subjects, and Germany was left out of most of it. He just sat there, listening intently, hoping for an opening that he could say something that actually mattered as well, but that opening didn't come. But he wouldn't interrupt them; that was rude, and Prussia had taught him not to be rude when he was with adults. Which was basically everyone.  
Didn't he matter enough to be included in the conversation? He did hear things which he wanted to talk about as well, but no one looked at him, no one asked him if he had anything to say on the matter. But he was really smart, of course he had something to say, and it wouldn't just be senseless stuff!  
But one day he would matter. Prussia told him so often that he was the German Empire, that the kingdom was working very hard for his little brother to become as important as the other Great Powers of the world. He kept talking about 'heritage' and 'legacy' and things like that, but Germany didn't quite see why. He was just him, just Germany, and what he would achieve in his life had nothing to do with heritage and creating a legacy. Who would he build a legacy for? He was immortal, he would be around forever and ever just like Prussia had been, and Austria and Hungary and all the other nations he knew.  
Germany had his gaze fixed on Prussia, frowning a little. If only he could see into his brother's mind, he would know what the kingdom really meant. As much as Germany loved him, lately he'd been getting the feeling that Prussia never told him _everything_. He didn't lie to Germany, surely he'd never lie to his very own little brother? But sometimes he cut off his words mid-sentence, and Germany could tell he'd been about to say something else. He kept things secret from Germany, and the child didn't like it. Even now, about his current illness, he didn't tell his little brother anything useful.  
 _Don't tell me about my 'great destiny',_ he wanted to tell his brother, using Prussia's own words, _and then treat me like a baby._ But his big brother would get angry if he said that, and he didn't want him to be angry again. So for now he held his tongue.

* * *

Later that evening, after Luxembourg had left for home again, Belgium brought Germany to the guest bedroom where he and Prussia would be sleeping for the coming week and helped him make the beds, something they'd completely forgotten to do earlier because of Prussia's condition. The little empire finally expressed his annoyance about being left in the dark about so many important things, and Belgium sighed. "Sometimes, Ludwig," she explained softly, "there are things that someone your age just has no need to know yet. When I lived under Spain and then Austria, they didn't tell me everything yet, either. Lars didn't always allow me to know everything either in the brief period that we were unified earlier this century. It's only in the past 60 years, after I declared independence and started growing up more, that I know everything I need to know about the state of my country and people."  
Germany blinked at her in surprise, but said nothing. Not even his big cousin Belgium had gotten all the information she had wanted and needed in the past? Well, then his time would certainly come, too. But he wanted that time to be _now_.  
"But I can tell you about why he's sick like this now," Belgium then unexpectedly added in a hushed voice, as if she didn't want anyone to hear her. She waited until Germany lay in bed, then went to sit beside him, looking at him with worry sparking in her eyes. "You know how Prussia is the most powerful and important of your states, right?" Germany nodded. "Do you remember… the other states?"  
Germany nodded. "The province of Hanover, the Kingdom of Saxony, the Grand Duchy of Hesse…"  
But Belgium shook her head, and he trailed off, wondering where he'd gone wrong. "Do you remember your siblings? The other ones, not Prussia."  
The little empire hesitated, but then he nodded, not too convincingly. "A little bit," he admitted, looking down. He knew that this was something important, even though his big brother never talked about them.  
Belgium sighed softly. "Well, you were very little when they… Anyway, among them, Prussia is the most powerful, and Bavaria is the second most powerful of your states. But after the unification, Prussia's political power and influence became gradually smaller." She looked Germany in the eyes then, and smiled reassuringly when she saw his round, wide-eyed gaze. Then she finished her explanation: "That is why Prussia's sick now; he had a good run, glory and success, but now he is on the decline."  
Again, Germany nodded. But he had to admit, though only to himself, that smart as he was, he didn't understand what it meant.  
Belgium seemed to notice, but she said nothing about it. She just kissed him on the forehead and wished him good night, walking away so that the young child could fall asleep. But he couldn't; he kept pondering, thinking about the meaning of what Belgium had said. He couldn't figure it out.

Prussia didn't go to bed much later than Germany had, as the Benelux countries had been right about him having to rest a lot if he wanted this infection to pass as quickly as possible. Germany looked fast asleep, to his relief, and he moved as quietly as he could as to not wake him up. But just then a light tremor went through his midriff and lungs, and he clenched his jaws tightly in an effort to stay quiet. But he couldn't hold back the coughs for long.  
Germany stirred and then sat up.  
 _Damn._ "I-I'm sorry, Ludwig," Prussia choked out, still trying to stifle his coughs. "It's all right, go back to sleep."  
The boy nodded, but he didn't look sleepy at all as he did so. Not as if he had just woken up from the noise Prussia made. He'd been awake this whole time, Prussia now realised, and he inwardly cursed again.  
When Prussia lay down on his own bed, Germany asked in a soft voice: "Why are you on the decline, brother?"  
The Prussian stiffened. Who had told him about that? Oh, it was probably Belgium. The girl did her best for everyone, after all, and Germany had looked confused and irritated basically all evening. He couldn't be angry at her for it, but it definitely didn't help him. His heart pounding in his chest, he forced himself to sound calm and even as he answered: "Oh, just… because. It happens to everyone, Ludwig; no one can stay at the top forever. I've had my moment, and now I just need to get used to not being as powerful anymore. Once my body's adjusted to that, I'll be healthy again. All right? Don't worry." Germany nodded, smiling now that he finally had this information, then said good night to his big brother and lay back down, closing his eyes contently.  
Prussia wished him good night, too, and turned over onto his side, his back turned to Germany. His stomach was churning as the truth burned inside his mind, words that he could never say out loud to his precious little brother.  
 _It's because you are here…_

* * *

 **So, mostly an introduction to one of the main plot points in the story. Next chapter will contain more (references to) history, and it won't be long before WWI starts in this fic. But first I want to write some chapters of Germany growing up (partly because people mentioned that in the reviews on CYH).**

 **Also, about Germany and Prussia going to the Netherlands so that Germany at least can go to the beach with them, amongst other things, is based on the fact that here in the Netherlands it's a very common thing to see more Germans than Dutch people on certain parts of our beaches during the summer. It's a very popular tourist spot. So I wanted to give Germany that little personality thingy: he loves the Dutch beaches. For whatever reason.  
Prussia doesn't because of the sun. It _buuuurrrnssss_.**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked the first chapter, and thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, can I just say... _wow_ _._ All of you, just... just wow.  
10 favs, 15 follows and 7 reviews in one chapter. By God I love you guys.  
But please forgive me that I am too lazy right now to search all over my inbox to gather all those usernames XD Thanks to everyone who followed, favourited and reviewed!**

 **I hope you'll like chapter 2!**

* * *

"Germany! It's been too long, _bambino!_ " Italy Veneziano greeted the young empire happily when he saw him, and Germany had to duck away to avoid his crushing hug. The Italian just smiled at him. Behind him, his brother Italy Romano only huffed and muttered a greeting to the young German.  
Veneziano then looked up to see Prussia standing at a little distance from the other nations, inspecting them, and then the North Italian nation ran his way as well.  
Unlike his little brother, Prussia welcomed the hug he would get with open arms and a wide smirk. "Ita!" he laughed as he easily lifted the smaller nation off his feet. He loved the little energetic Italian, he always cheered him up without even putting any effort in it. Maybe without knowing.  
"Prussia, you're looking well," Veneziano commented when he stepped back, smiling at his friend. They had always gotten along well, but since their alliance, their relationship had improved even more.  
Not with Romano, though. He just walked up to Prussia as well and gave him a 'friendly' punch in the shoulder. "Thanks for the invitation, damn potato bastard."  
Prussia just chuckled, amused. He'd taught himself to take 'damn potato bastard' as 'awesome Prussia', it was the only reason he hadn't punched him in the face yet. Grumpy piece of shit. But then, somehow he was fond of Romano anyway. He turned back to Veneziano then. "Lizzie and Sissy are already here," he told him quickly with a gesture to his house before he called Germany back, then he went inside with his two Italian guests and Germany by his side.  
He had invited the members of the Triple Alliance over for New Year's, as it was the turn of the century, and hopefully it was a century better than the last one. Because the 19th century had been… difficult.  
Once inside, Austria and Hungary got a similar greeting from Veneziano as Prussia and Germany had gotten, and Romano muttered once again. The younger of the two Italians then looked at Prussia again, smiling happily. "We've brought ingredients to make pasta! So big bro and I will be taking care of dinner."  
"Oh, wonderful!" Hungary replied, her green eyes shining. She then shoved over to Austria a little and leant against her husband. "Roderich was going to make _Apfelstrudeln_ for dessert, so we're all set for the night!"  
Prussia, who sat down now as well, sighed. "All right, so… I'm not going to cook for my guests?"  
"Well, I would prefer to live to see 1900."  
" _Si_ , I'd… rather not get poisoned."  
"Damn potato bastard."  
Strangely, Prussia couldn't even be offended by this. His cooking had improved over the years, especially after he had to start taking care of Germany all on his own and he was expected to make something decent, but he'd cooked himself food poisoning on a plate before. He couldn't blame them for hoping to avoid his culinary failures. Still, it would be uncharacteristic of him not to reply, and he couldn't have his awesome image damaged in any way. "Well, my sausages are awesome," he protested. "And trust me, you've never seen someone use mustard in such creative ways as I do sometimes. And potatoes! I can do potatoes!"  
"But your vegetables are mush," Germany piped up, looking up at his big brother with an innocent gaze. "They're nice if you mash them together with the potatoes, though."  
"Oh, you can't even make an omelette yet!"  
"Can too!"  
"What are you arguing about?" suddenly came a new voice, the last person who would come over today; Romania, who had secretly joined the Triple Alliance some time ago. He grinned as he stood in the doorway, his slightly pointy teeth and reddish-brown eyes giving him a vampiric look as always. When his gaze met Hungary's, something flashed in his eyes, and his grin was wiped from his face in a heartbeat. "Hello, _Hungary_."  
The Hungarian woman answered with the same poison in her voice: " _Romania._ " And that was all she said to him, after that not even acknowledging his presence.  
Unaware of the sudden tension in the room, Veneziano started explaining to the Romanian that Prussia was under the impression that he had any good food at all. Romania, who had never eaten anything cooked by Prussia yet, just shrugged. "Well, he has good beer. Really good."  
"That's it!" Prussia then declared loudly. "Ita, you and Roma can make us dinner, Sis- err… I mean, _Roderich_ will take care of dessert and the Awesome Me will handle the drinks. Fair enough?"  
They all agreed with that, and minutes later the two Italians were in the kitchen, the only place where Romano seemed to enjoy himself, so Prussia was happy to let them fool around in there together.  
Meanwhile Germany was talking to Hungary and Austria, and Prussia decided to watch that. His little brother was one of the few things left on this planet that could warm his heart just by being near him. Hungary smiled warmly at him. "You've grown even more since I last saw you, haven't you?"  
Germany nodded. "I think so," he answered calmly. The older he got, the more the boy seemed to change; he wasn't as openly enthusiastic anymore about many things, and he was only 9 years old. It was one of the things about him that hurt Prussia whenever he thought about it. Just one of several things. "But it's been almost a year, hasn't it? I grow up quickly." He proudly raised his chin a little. "Brother says it's because I'm a strong empire. And the improvements to my navy and political developments have helped me grow."  
"Well, that is how our bodies work," Hungary replied with a tiny smile. Then she chuckled softly and looked up at Prussia. "I'm afraid some of your attitude is rubbing off on him, Gil," she told him, her eyes twinkling with joy.  
Prussia huffed. "Why would that be bad? I'm _awesome_ and so is he. We both know it." Hungary giggled at this, shaking her head, then went on talking to Germany, who told her about the things he'd learnt from Prussia over the past year; he was now allowed to join his brother in meetings, and soon Prussia would take him to meet other nations not part of their family or allies. It was to officially introduce the German Empire to the nations of Europe, and he was looking forward to it. He was also trying hard to learn how to behave around other nations –which was the cause for his change in attitude.

Prussia listened to it a little longer, then quietly got Austria's attention and, when the older nation looked up curiously, gestured to him to come with the kingdom. The Prussian took him into his office and locked the door. They would be out of earshot from the others here.  
Austria stood calmly as Prussia sat down on the side of his desk, dark blue gaze fixed on his cousin. "What is it, Prussia?" he asked evenly, though Prussia could tell from his gaze that he was a bit anxious.  
All of Prussia's earlier joy seemed to have drained out of him, and he only felt a bitter cold as though his blood had turned to ice. It was what he'd gotten used to, and the cold didn't bother him. He _welcomed_ it, with open arms like he'd welcomed Veneziano's tackle-hug earlier. He didn't waste any time on pleasantries, and instead cut right to the chase. "Have you found anything yet?" he asked in a dark, angry mutter,  
Austria looked reluctant to answer, but he sighed after some hesitation. "No, just like the last time you asked." He averted his gaze quickly when Prussia gritted his teeth at this, not saying a word to his younger cousin right now. This was a common thing between the two now. One of the reasons for their alliance was easier access to each other. After all, they had been working together for longer than their alliance had existed, a secret they kept even from their leaders. Austria didn't see why they should keep their leaders out of it, but Prussia had insisted that humans couldn't be trusted, and Austria, so as to not anger his short-tempered cousin, just listened to him and had never said a word. Prussia knew that part of the Austrian's willingness to follow his rules sprang from fear of the albino nation, but he didn't care. If that was how he wanted to work, then so be it. This time, though, he wasn't afraid enough to hold his tongue. "Prussia, I think it's about time you let this go."  
Immediately the Prussian stiffened in sheer anger, and he narrowed his eyes, glaring dangerously at Austria. "Let this go?" he echoed in disbelief, his voice a low rumble. He dug his nails into his desk, his muscles tense. "How should I? It's been 25 years, Austria, and we haven't found any answers yet! _25 years!_ "  
"Exactly!" the Austrian retorted, raising his voice to match Prussia's. "A quarter of a century has passed and we haven't found who's done it yet, not even a single clue to who could've killed them. Prussia, it's _hopeless_. I want answers as much as you do, but-!"  
"No, you don't!" Prussia interrupted him then, in an angry snarl. "Clearly you don't give a damn, or you wouldn't even _consider_ giving up! I'm talking about our _family,_ Austria –our brothers and sisters and cousins! Someone killed them, someone has, and I won't stop searching until that someone lays rotting six feet underground." He got to his feet again and took a couple of steps closer to Austria, leaning closer to him threateningly. "Don't you want to find whoever caused our entire family to perish, _cousin_?"  
Austria refused to be intimidated this time, and glared at Prussia with the same fire as in the red eyes now burning into his very soul. "I _know_ who caused their deaths," he answered determinedly, his voice level but with a hint of malice. He took a deep breath then, clearly trying to control himself, but Prussia could practically see the change in his expression the very moment that he decided not to hold back now. Then the Austrian gave his cousin a massive shove, pushing him right back against his desk. "It was _you!_ " the empire yelled, and the sudden explosion of emotion in his voice compared to his calm demeanour just moments ago was almost terrifying. " _You_ caused all this! You may not have been the one to thrust a knife into their hearts or put a bullet through their heads, but it's your fault that they're dead!"  
Prussia froze, wanting desperately to find words he could say against this… but he couldn't find any.  
Meanwhile, Austria raged on. "It's because you created Germany that they are 'no longer needed', it's because of Germany that someone decided that they should all be gone to ensure better unity –and they would've taken you, too, if you hadn't been needed to raise Germany, I'm sure of it!" Austria then angrily stepped closer to Prussia and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pressing on his throat and making breathing more difficult, but thankfully not impossible. Yet. "And Germany," he went on, more quietly now but still with burning anger in his voice. "Germany is _your doing._ I cannot and I will not blame a child who was barely out of diapers when all this happened. Germany is innocent, and he should never be blamed for anything that happened because of him. Because whatever was caused by him up to this point, for now and forever, was caused by _you._ He happened because of you."  
Prussia listened to it almost without breathing, and every word, every syllable, cut deeper into his heart. His gaze was fixed on Austria, who calmed down after his outburst, then he narrowed his eyes after a few silent seconds. "If I were you, Sissy," he muttered angrily, "I would be more careful about my choice of words."  
"No," Austria answered simply, sighing softly. "If you really wanted to hurt me, you would've done so already, regardless of what I said." He didn't seem worried at all, just calmly standing in front of the albino.  
Prussia hated it when he was right. He grunted, averting his gaze. "I made a promise not to hurt you again," he said with slight reluctance. "I'm not going to break my promise. I told you before, you're basically the only family I've got left, and I'm not… I won't risk it. Losing you." He narrowed his red eyes then and glared at Austria, adding: "Even if I want to punch you _so bad_."  
Austria smiled at this, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. "Good. I'm glad to see you haven't lost all your hard-won manners yet. You worked _so hard_ to learn them, after all." He stepped away again, his gaze fixed on Prussia as the kingdom fought to relax himself. Austria was long calm again. "Take some time to cool down, Prussia, I can see you need it. But please, for the sake of everyone else, don't speak of this anymore tonight. It's a celebration –one which _you_ organised. All right? You owe that much to Germany." He then left the office, but before he did, he passed Prussia and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "I want to know the truth as much as you do, I really do. But… some things are not meant to ever be found out." Then he closed the door behind him.  
Prussia stared at the door, and he could slowly feel himself begin to tremble. The cold inside his veins, which was slowly freezing over his heart, day by day… it was overwhelming sometimes.  
How could he ever give up? Someone must have killed his siblings and his cousins. Hesse, Hanover, Bavaria… Württemberg.  
He'd _raised_ Württemberg.  
The kingdom had once mistakenly believed Prussia to be his father. Disturbing as that was, it had been… sweet. Such an innocent child. Him and Brandenburg, they had raised the boy and taught him what it was to be a nation. He'd been so dear to Prussia.  
Hesse, his amazing older brother. Never spoke much, looked like your everyday ruffian but had a heart of gold. Pure, 24-carat gold. They'd started out none too close, but that had started to change less than a century ago. He was starting to turn into someone whom Prussia could rely on and confide in… he'd needed that. He still needed it.  
Hanover, a bit of a fool sometimes but kind and understanding. He knew when to be serious and when to be a joker. Sometimes he got it wrong, though. Him and Prussia and Hesse, under Napoleon's rule, had been roommates for a year. That year had kind of settled their relationship as brothers. By the end of that year, he wouldn't have traded him for anything.  
Prussia had history with Bavaria which he'd rather forget altogether. This boy had been raised by Austria. Just like Prussia missed Württemberg especially, Austria had taken the loss of his little brother and sort-of-foster-son hardest of all. Prussia would want even him back.  
Baden and Brunswick, two of the few girls in the family. There had once been more, of course, but they had died earlier. Brandenburg, Prussia's cousin and, after their Personal Union, also his wife, had been one of them.  
She had died much earlier than the rest of the family had disappeared, but he still missed her so much. Just 4 years until the 200th anniversary of her death… he still went to her grave every week.  
He knew how she had died. He knew what had caused Holy Rome to pass away. He had been there when Saxony died.  
But everyone else's deaths were a mystery that he had to solve. He had to, he couldn't give up! It felt disrespectful, uncaring… wrong. He would find the truth no matter how long it took. He would find whoever had killed them, and he would avenge them. He had to, for them, for everyone who was left without knowing what had happened. For himself. For Germany, too. He too deserved to know what had happened to the family he'd only got to know so briefly.  
But….  
He really hated it when Austria was right.  
"…I'm sorry…"

* * *

Near midnight, the nations all sat together in Prussia and Germany's living room, staring at the clock, waiting patiently for it to hit midnight. Austria hadn't said anything about his confrontation with Prussia earlier, no one had asked any questions either, and Prussia had become an excellent actor. The masks he'd worn all his life were so easy to put on by now, sometimes he could hardly tell himself whether he really was happy, or if he was just pretending. Most of the time it would be the latter, though. But it was a good thing that he could fool even himself. It gave him some diversion from the never-ending cold.  
It was Romania who noticed the end of the year first. "Happy new century!" he cheered, then chugging down his beer in one, massive gulp. He nearly choked himself on it, and the others just laughed. Once, of course, they had ensured his survival.  
Hungary leant over to Austria and kissed him, wishing him a happy new year, too, then put her arms around Germany. Next she turned to the two Italian brothers and gave them both a hug at the same time. She skipped Romania, which he didn't seem to mind. Lastly she walked over to Prussia. For him, she had a gentle kiss on the cheek, and Prussia felt his heart both flutter and crack at the same time. How he wished it could be out of more than just friendship. She wanted to move away and sit back down again, but Prussia stopped her, returning the friendly peck on the cheek. With a little more behind it. She was used to that by now, and Prussia was just about gentlemanly enough not to cross the lines. Well… not since her wedding anymore, anyway. He'd gotten drunk then and kissed her when no one was looking. Thankfully she had known that he was drunk (it had probably been hard to miss the strong taste of wine on his lips) and had only gently told him not to do that anymore. He had kissed her twice before that, too, but she hadn't known about that, she hadn't been awake.  
 _God, that sounds perverted to think about like that…_  
The Hungarian woman almost apologetically smiled at him, saying nothing, then sat down beside her husband again. Prussia then saw Germany stare at him with a grimace, and he laughed, reaching forward and grabbing his little brother. He held him tightly as the child squirmed to free himself.  
Germany did _not_ appreciate that. "Let go, let go!" he protested, struggling in vain. "Kisses are so _yucky_!"  
"Are they now?" Prussia laughed, having known all along that his little brother was in the inevitable 'hugs and kisses are yucky' phase. He then held him just a little closer and gave him a thoroughly exaggerated kiss on the cheek. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" he laughed then. "I accidentally dirtied your noble face, my royal highness! Here, let me clean that off." Then he kissed his other cheek.  
Germany finally managed to get away, that is, Prussia slackened his grip on him, and everyone laughed at the look of total disgust he sent his older brother. It got even worse when Italy Veneziano picked him up and set him on his lap. Prussia almost felt bad for his little brother when he saw him sitting there with a grimace. He was in that difficult age; he was still a child and everyone perceived him as such but himself. In his eyes, it was a case of "I'm 29 years old even though I look 9, don't mess with me". Maybe not exactly in those words, though. Germany would find a way to make it sound more… refined. Prussia hated that word, it was basically Austria's favourite. Which automatically meant Prussia hated it.  
Germany didn't have the stomach to protest against Veneziano though. He never said anything bad to Veneziano and never protested against anything he did. Prussia sometimes stared at the little boy's attitude around the energetic Italian in silent amazement. Holy Rome had been hopelessly in love with Veneziano. 'Hopelessly' in this case to be taken in the same way as Prussia's love for Hungary was a hopeless one; it was simply a one-sided love, nothing to be done about it. Though… he doubted Veneziano had even been aware of Holy Rome's crush on him, just like Hungary would probably still have no clue if Prussia hadn't gathered the courage to just tell her almost a century ago.  
It was definitely a family trait.  
But Germany's behaviour when he was with Veneziano astonished him. Maybe it was because he looked so much like Prussia dear older brother had that the kingdom was so intrigued by it. Maybe he was Holy Rome's reincarnation, but even in that case they wouldn't share the same spirit. Nation reincarnations were different from what human reincarnations were possibly like; if a nation was reborn, they were a new person entirely. They might still share some traits with their previous incarnations, but the spirits of their former lives existed as separate beings. Either way, a crush was a trait too personal to inherit.  
But suddenly Germany looked happier again as he turned to Prussia. "This year I can start joining you in your workouts!" he declared happily, reminding his brother of a promise he'd made a couple weeks ago. The young empire liked to watch Prussia as he did his daily workouts, lifting weights and 'sparring' with his new punching bag.  
Prussia nodded, agreeing softly. "But," he added with a serious gaze, "you're not using weapons yet, not even wooden swords. You hear me?" Germany sighed and nodded, but thankfully he didn't look too disappointed.  
Romano grunted and rolled his eyes grumpily. "Great. Another buffed-up potato." But everyone just ignored him.  
Everyone except Prussia, who just smirked at him. "Well, Germany _is_ the strongest nation on the mainland, after all," he said proudly, chin raised. "It is only fitting for him to physically strong as well, don't you think? With me as his mentor, he will be a force to be reckoned with, mark my words."

* * *

In the years after that, Prussia and Germany spent some time travelling around Europe to formally introduce the new empire to surrounding countries and their leaders. Some were more accepting of Germany than others were; the Scandinavians didn't seem to care either way, Russia's reaction was hard to judge as always, with something of menace behind his otherwise kind smile. France had been particularly hostile, mostly toward Prussia but also Germany. The Prussian had expected as much, of course, and had warned his little brother beforehand that this might well be the case. It was no secret that France's greatest desire was to take revenge on Germany, the nation that had humiliated him, ruined him and finally mocked him by being established in his very own Palace of Versailles, the symbol of his past greatness, all before he'd even been born. Prussia resented him for it; if anyone, France should hate _him_ , and not the little boy who hadn't even been born when Prussia stripped the older nation of his status. But thankfully they moved on to other nations rather quickly. Spain called Germany a 'cute little tomato', to which the little empire himself answered coolly that, if Spain wanted to call what was perhaps the most powerful nation on the continent 'cute', that was his business. But if that word was in any way meant to be diminishing, he would not accept it. And he used exactly those words.  
At that particular moment, Prussia's heart had felt like it could just burst with pride.

 _12 June 1903_

 _Ludwig and I have been basically everywhere now. The only place we still need to go is overseas, so lastly we're headed to the UK and Ireland near the end of this year.  
He's grown up even more now. Last nation we went to estimated him to be 11 or 12 by now. That's an almost human pace over the past years, isn't it? I like to think it's all because of my hard work together with the government. The quick industrialisation, the many innovations in technology, the few colonies we've gotten. The economy is strong and everything is pretty all right politically speaking. Sure there are tensions about certain things, but when are there not?  
He is certainly the product of my family's combined effort, though. He has my stubbornness, for sure, and my sense of ambition and the will to just go on and on and climb as high as he possibly can in the world. He has a way with words, even at his young age, which is not unlike Brandenburg's had been. A sense of responsibility to match Hesse's. Sometimes he looks at me in a certain way, or he does things that remind me of my brothers and sisters and cousins…  
It's like I'm helping all of them when I work to help him secure a place in the world. Like they're all part of him. He truly is their legacy. Of __**all**_ _of us.  
Germany, you great nation. Climb on._

A day after the two brothers' arrival in London near the end of that year, they were in England's house; their appointment with the British king and Prime Minister had for some reason been moved to the next day instead, so for now they were here for Germany's first and informal introduction to the UK nations.

Prussia, having known these nations for a few centuries now, was a lot more comfortable than Germany was, as was to be expected. The little empire's attitude in this situation, however, was eerily similar to what it was when he'd met foreign leaders. He had this serious air around him, something that Prussia had by now gotten used to. His business-like behaviour seemed to unnerve the United Kingdom a little, though; it was unusual for a child his age to even be able to behave quite like this.  
The child's first words to the four brothers had surprised even Prussia, though. "I am honoured to finally meet the personifications behind such a grand empire," he'd said, in German, and Prussia had kept true to his actual words as best he could in his translation. "It has always amazed me how such a small island as yourselves have managed to establish a vast empire like you have."  
The old nations stared at each other for a moment, dumbfounded. Then they turned to stare at Prussia, who was just as surprised at them. "Judging by your expression," England said to him, so Prussia didn't translate this, "this isn't common for him?"  
The albino laughed softly. "Well, yes and no," he admitted. "It's been years since I've last heard him speak like a child his age would, but this is new even for me." He then translated the greeting the British Isles said to his little brother. From there on, Prussia served mostly as an interpreter between his brother and the four older nations.  
"You were born in 1871, right?" Ireland asked Germany after some time as everyone sat together, a little confused. His light blue eyes were filled with a disbelief that looked almost awed as well.  
Germany nodded politely. "Established in January and born in October. Why, if I may ask?"  
Ireland shrugged, though he still had that same look in his eyes. "You're just… surprisingly old for someone your age, if you know what I mean. You should still be a wee lad, someone so young."  
When Prussia had translated this, Germany allowed a tiny grin to appear on his face. "Well, I am developing at an extraordinary pace, is what I am told. It doesn't surprise me that I exceed your expectations. Still, I consider it a compliment that you're surprised at my speedy growth, so thank you, Ireland."  
 _Oh, this is gold, you're pure gold,_ Prussia thought as he translated, again trying his hardest to convey the same pride and dignity that his precious little brother did. _Germany, you little treasure, you're by far the best thing I've ever created._ Never had he even dreamt the little empire he'd made and raised would grow to be such a proud, strong nation before he'd even fully grown. Well, Prussia hadn't been full-grown at the height of his power a little while ago, either, but there was a huge difference between being a teen or young adult and being a _child._ Germany was everything he could wish for. The most awesome little brother for the most awesome kingdom.  
England, though he seemed impressed, scoffed a little before correcting himself. "You are most certainly growing quickly, Germany," he said calmly, only a tiny trace of spite in his voice that Prussia hoped the child wouldn't recognise. "Your navy is becoming a true rival to ours, and the pace of your industrialisation is… _intriguing._ "  
Prussia translated what was said, but he knew very well the word England had bit back just in time: _troublesome._ His heart fluttered with pride. The German Empire was becoming more powerful so quickly that other nations saw him as a threat. That was good; it meant they respected him. Sure, they probably despised him for rising to power at such a staggering speed, they probably loathed the thought that he might one day overshadow them all, but fear of someone's strength could not exist without respect for it, too. If you're afraid of their power, you acknowledge their greatness and potential to surpass you. That was just how it worked.  
Prussia wouldn't want it any other way.

* * *

Later that same day, when the two Germans were back in their hotel room together and discussing the day, Germany sighed softly. Though it wasn't a sigh of sadness or regret or anything of the sort. It was almost something of boredom. "They all seemed very cautious," he commented flatly, his gaze even. But then there was finally a flash of emotion. "They didn't seem to trust me much… or like me." He seemed bothered by it.  
But Prussia only smiled at him warmly. "That's fine, Ludwig," he assured him. "Hardly anyone ever liked me, and I'm still fine, aren't I?" Germany didn't respond for a moment, but eventually he nodded silently. Prussia just went on, clearly seeing that the boy really was hurt over it. "Look, I know it's difficult, I really know it. But you don't _need_ the world to like you."  
Germany nodded with more conviction this time. "They just need to trust you, right?" he asked.  
The boy seemed surprised when Prussia shook his head. "It's a good thing if at least your allies trust you, but not even that is a necessity."  
The young empire seemed utterly confused about this, and he tilted his head a little, curious. "Then what is?"  
"Fear." Prussia could feel his heart skip a beat as he revealed this to his precious little brother. He would've liked to keep this knowledge from him a little longer, allow him to live in innocent bliss just for a few more years, but considering the utter terror and distrust the albino had seen in other nations' eyes as they met the young, mighty empire, it was best if Germany learnt this now. "If they're afraid of you, they're more likely to make concessions in your favour in any negotiation. They will think twice before attacking you. If they're scared of what you might do, it means they respect your power."  
Germany nodded, but he didn't look completely convinced quite yet. "But… if you make them do your bidding because they're afraid of you, isn't that… extortion?" Prussia could see that his desire to believe his brother was conflicting with what he'd learnt before.  
Prussia shrugged. "Call it what you will, it is exactly what every nation in the past has used to climb up the ladder. The British Empire? Those four _gentlemen_ you've met today, they showcase their power through a thriving industry and a strong military. Slave drivers they were, until that was outlawed. England has conquered his brothers with force. Ireland may be the oldest of them, but England has even him in his clutches. The poor guy is completely left at his little brother's mercy." He sighed, listing off more of these examples within Europe. "At the height of his power, Netherlands used the people's fear of innovation to his advantage; he declared himself a republic, a sight rarely seen in those days, and welcomed all those 'radical thinkers', the scientists and philosophers that the church despised and declared satanic. And what do you think happens when all the free thinkers, all these brilliant and inventive minds gather within one nation?" Germany didn't answer, bur Prussia could see understanding grow in him as he listened. "Ah, and France… France who unleashed Napoleon on Europe. Like an unstoppable hurricane that man was, conquering wherever he went. It took seven wars and many, many men's lives to stop him in the end. You think all of us under threat from him weren't afraid of that man and what he could do? If the opposition hadn't banded together like we did, so many nations gathering forces to drive away one man, I've no doubt that he would have succeeded in making France a _continent_ instead of a nation. I was terrified of him."  
Germany then sighed and nodded, mumbling that he understood now. He still didn't seem too happy about it, however. Prussia felt bad for him.

 _Oh, my dear little brother,_ he wanted to say to him, but for now, he knew, he'd said enough. Best be quiet now and let this lesson sink in. _I wish it were different, too. It is a lesson I've had to learn the hard way, and I was in denial of it for so long, too. But in the end, what is more reliable than fear? Love may be strong enough to overpower hatred, but it falls into naught compared to true terror. Love may be strong enough to unite people, but when people are afraid of the same thing, then too will they work together in an effort to conquer their fear.  
It is true, love really does conquer all.  
All except __**fear**_ _.  
I would know, wouldn't I? After all, my precious Ludwig, my dearest little brother, truly the love of my life…_

 _I am, just like all of them, positively terrified of your potential._

* * *

 **Prussia's state of mind is a bit... wobbly. If I may quote one of TheOldKaiser's reviews on CYH:  
"(...) but at what cost? The sanity of a shunned eagle? (...) The grinder spit him out as a new person. He became jaded and cynical. A master of arms. A God of War incarnate."  
You got it, TheOldKaiser. Perfect description. But who can blame him for losing it after everything that's happened to him? I would've gone insane much quicker than him, really.  
**

 **I also cannot imagine Prussia being 100% happy about Germany, even though his precious little brother is about the last thing still keeping him (more or less) sane. Let's not forget, Prussia established an empire, achieved what he'd fought for all his life, and then suddenly there was this tiny little _thing_ taking his place.**

 **Ah, but I agree with most of the reviews I've read... little Germany is so precious. I love writing him. Doing his best to be a good, dignified nation worthy of everyone's respect, but still just a child as well.**

 **Sorry about Prussia, anyway. He won't be like this all the time.**

 **I hope you liked it, and please leave a little review if you can!**


	3. Chapter 3

**First off, thankf to Fangirl 99 eveyami, MagneticPastry, awesome cookies, Meditatio, awesomeapplepie, MissiriKoharehn, Rail Tracer, Moonshine-Aqua and blackstargod2 for all the reviews, follows and favourites over the last chapter! (and anyone else I might've forgotten!)**

 **All righty, so I just really want to get to the start of WWI in this fic, so, uhm... time-skips. Not as massive as there have been in CYH, but still.**

 **Anyway, I hope you'll like the chapter!**

* * *

Someone was screaming.  
Germany blinked open his eyes and yawned, slowly sitting up. He waited for a few seconds, and then there it came: another fearful yelp broke through the perfect silence of the night, a whimper following closely. The boy sighed and tiredly got up out of bed. He could find his way through the house very well in this darkness, and he went to the kitchen without a second thought, only lighting a few candles once he was already there. Meanwhile the screams and whimpers went on; he didn't pay much attention to those. He poured some water into a kettle and set that on the stove, waiting for it to heat up, rummaging through the cupboard and the drawers until he had two cups and two teabags. The kettle started screeching louder than the terrified voice that sounded through the house every few seconds, and the half-awake empire turned off the gas and poured the steaming water into the cups, leaving the teabags in it as he got two teaspoons as well, the only items he still missed. Then he picked the tea he'd made up and carefully moved to the source of the noise that had woken him.  
It used to be tricky to open to door with hot tea in his hands, but he'd learnt a trick to it, and now he did it effortlessly. He stood in the doorway to Prussia's room for a moment, watching as his brother tossed about in his bed restlessly, whimpering and mumbling in his sleep. At least he wasn't screaming anymore. Then, with another soft sigh, Germany calmly walked over to him and set the tea on the kingdom's nightstand before turning to his brother, still a bit sleepy, and he started shaking the albino. "Brother," he said to him, sounding as calm as he knew he needed to be. "Wake up. Prussia, wake up." But the Prussian was in a deep sleep, tormented by his nightmares, and Germany raised his voice a bit every few seconds until he was loud enough to finally wake his brother.  
Prussia suddenly grew very tense, yelping one last time, and a split second later he sat up, his red eyes wild with fear and his breathing coming in quick gulps of air.  
Germany waited a few seconds until the kingdom realised he was awake now, that he'd only been dreaming, and then turned to stare at his little brother beside him, still not saying a word. The blonde nation yawned again. "You were doing it again," he then explained, completely unfazed by it all. He sat down on the edge of the bed beside Prussia, grabbing the tea again and handing one cup to him as he went on. "You were mumbling a lot, but I didn't catch what you were saying. I don't think it was German at all. Anyway, it's camomile this time; hopefully it'll ease your mind more than that mint tea did last time."  
Prussia silently took the cup from him, still a bit shaky. He didn't say anything yet, but Germany knew he would start talking again just minutes from now. As the albino nation took a few careful sips of his tea, Germany got his own cup and started drinking a bit as well. All this had become a routine between the two brothers; Prussia had nightmares such as these rather often, and one night, when it had woken Germany yet again to hear his brother's frantic whimpering and occasional screams, he had decided to get out of bed and do his best to wake his brother from his nightmares, like Prussia did for him, too, if Germany was the one with bad dreams. And since then he'd never stopped doing it.  
It wasn't always like this, though. Sometimes Prussia would wake up on his own already and he would start pacing around the house. If Germany heard him do this he would get out of bed, assure his big brother that everything was all right and, if necessary, bring him back to his room. Sometimes he would share the bed with his brother, if Prussia appeared to need someone with him to calm down or if he just felt like it himself, other times he would go back to his own bed. If Prussia didn't wake by himself, Germany would try to wake him like he'd done now. Some nights that was easier than others, some nights it took basically nothing for Prussia to be himself again and some nights he would ramble about what he'd dreamt first. It didn't matter to Germany anymore; he knew how to handle each of those situations and more.  
When Prussia sighed, his shoulders visibly relaxing and the last remnants of his terror leaving his expression, Germany asked almost flatly: "So what was it this time?"  
The Prussian didn't answer immediately, first nibbling on the inside of his lip. "Seven Year's War," he then said in a soft voice. "Not exactly true to how it really went, but… _Everyone_ had turned against me. They all wanted to get rid of me… they wanted to kill me, Ludwig, make me suffer." He took a deep, shaky breath and then finished in a mere whisper: "They killed Fritz and made me watch…"  
Germany hummed, feeling bad for him. Germany's own nightmares were usually much more innocent, things completely made up by his own mind. Things like spiders the size of people or bigger (he wasn't afraid of spiders but he didn't like big ones like those) or monsters or just getting lost and not knowing where to go or what to do. Prussia had lived a long life full of traumatising events, and in he dreams he relived them time and time again.  
They sat like that a little while longer, until Prussia looked at his little brother with warmth and gratitude making his eyes shine like rubies in the darkness and the soft light of the moon outside. "Thank you so much, Ludwig," he said warmly. Then curiosity flashed in his eyes as well, and he added: "How do you always know what to do? It's like, no matter how I react to these… these nightmares, you always know exactly how to respond. How do you do it?"  
"I made a list," Germany answered without any hesitation. When he saw the disbelief in his brother's eyes, he insisted: "Really, I did. It goes something like this: _Step 1: determine whether Prussia is still asleep or awake. Step 2: in case of him being asleep, make tea. In case of him being awake, approach with care. Step 3: wake him if necessary and talk about the dream when he seems ready. Step-_ "  
Prussia nodded and cut him off quickly, saying that he had a pretty good idea of what that list must look like. "And you've written this all down?"  
"Including a section on how to determine the severity of your nightmares before I wake you up. The section about which tea to use is still unfinished. I want to find which one works best before I make any definitive decisions about that, and perhaps it differs per situation." The boy just calmly drank the last of his tea, looking back up at Prussia afterward. The kingdom was completely dumbfounded at what he'd heard just now. Germany just shrugged. "I just like clear, orderly instructions to follow. They make life so much easier."  
Prussia chuckled softly, drank the rest of his tea and then set the cup on his nightstand again. Next he put an arm around Germany's shoulder and gave him a kiss on his head. "Thanks again, little brother," he said softly. The young German only said that is was okay; he then asked if it was all right with Prussia if he stayed there for the remainder of the night, and the albino nodded immediately. The little empire slept again quickly, comfortably pressed against his brother's chest like that.

* * *

By the year 1911, Prussia and Germany were invited to inspect the newest inventions in weaponry. An Austrian engineer had invented a new type of armoured vehicle, though he hadn't actually built it yet. Prussia was interested in it, of course, though the new fire arms that he was expected to see and judge were things he didn't look forward to much.  
Germany was only excited; the young teen, already looking like a 15-year-old with his incredibly fast growth, had never been to anything like this before.  
Prussia stared reluctantly at the rows of different guns. There were big ones and bigger ones and even bigger ones. He suppressed a shiver. "So if a new war breaks out," he began tentatively, "you're not at all planning on using swords anymore?"  
The lieutenant that was assigned to show them around and explain things to the four nations –Austria and Hungary were also there- shook his head in response. "Swords are terribly outdated, sir," he answered simply, as if that had been obvious all along. "We do not know exactly which weapons our possible enemies possess, but if they're anything like this, heading into battle with a short-ranged weapon like that is nothing short of suicide."  
For a moment, Prussia didn't say anything, but eventually he sighed. "Well, call me outdated, then. I've been using swords all my life and I'm not planning on stopping anytime soon."  
"…It's your funeral, sir."  
They stopped after some time, beside a long row of guns, and the human looked at Germany. "You look like you've got a good eye, young man," he said approvingly. "Care to try this one out? It can be easily used but it's as lethal as any."  
Germany accepted gratefully, and as Prussia watched his little brother pick up the weapon, inspect it carefully, then load it with a few instructions on how to do so from the human, he felt conflicted. Proud as he was about Germany growing up so quickly and slowly becoming a real man by now, his complete hatred for guns was starting to get the upper hand here; he wanted nothing more than to see the young German put that weapon away again.  
He started when Germany suddenly fired the weapon with a loud blast, his muscles tensing. Then the Prussian felt soft fingertips lightly brush his hand and then twine with his fingers in a comforting gesture. Hungary stood beside him, watching Germany too, but whispering to her old friend: "It's all right, Gil," she told him. "I'm not too fond of them, myself. Not since… you know."  
Prussia nodded silently. Hungary had once nearly been killed by a gunshot. They still didn't know which nation had shot her in battle, and said nation probably hadn't realised it had been Hungary in the first place. It had been Prussia who had saved her life with the skills he'd acquired over the centuries, disinfecting wounds and stitching cuts and all such useful things to know during wartime. He'd learnt how to set broken bones quite recently, and had also looked into the attempts at blood transfusions in case of heavy blood loss. He'd even let humans experiment on him sometime back, having heard that many transfusions failed. It had been just years ago that humans had discovered there were different types of blood, and even when matching those, it didn't always go as planned. Prussia had agreed to being tested with both the right match for his blood and a wrong one, and though the latter had felt uncomfortable for some time, it had no negative effects on him. This led him to believe that it didn't matter for nations which blood type they got injected so long as it was a human performing the transfusion. Humans hadn't thought of that yet.  
If only he'd had this information much sooner, he could've helped Hungary more quickly back then. He might've been able to save Saxony when his brother had been mortally wounded. Who knows, maybe it would've even helped Holy Rome when the little empire contracted what people now called tuberculosis?  
The albino nearly jumped again when Germany fired a second time, and he sighed deeply. "I'm beginning to think that, in the next war," he whispered to Hungary, "I'll just stick to being a field-medic. I really don't like these… _things._ "  
On his other side, Austria snorted softly, clearly trying to hold back a little considering their company. "Good luck with that, Prussia," he said in a hushed voice, sounding quite a bit amused. "You're too valuable as a soldier, and you know it. They'll never allow it."  
Now, Prussia cracked a grin as well. "I know. Sometimes I'm just too awesome for my own good."  
He hadn't even noticed that Germany had put the gun away again and turned back to his brother. "The enemy wouldn't even be able to take three steps," he stated proudly, his light blue eyes gleaming as he said this. "With weapons like this, we'll be invincible. I know that we're surrounded by potential enemy nations, but at this rate, I won't worry if and when a war breaks out." He then turned to the human lieutenant and thanked him politely.  
Later, when the group got a look at the plans for this armoured vehicle, Prussia's heart swelled with pride. It was undeniable that, despite his efforts over the past decades, his trauma concerning fire arms was too deep-rooted for him to get over completely. He was scared of them more often than not –guns and bombs actually played a big part in his perpetual nightmares- but he did see their potential. And who was he to condemn an entire industry over his own personal trauma? These weapons here, everything he'd seen today, this was the future of warfare. He'd known this for some time now, and _now_ was the time to really start adapting to it. From now on, he decided, he would train with guns at least once a week, until his heart finally stopped pounding in terror for them.  
At least Germany didn't seem to feel even a twinge of fear for all these lethal instruments.  
 _But then, he's never seen them in_ _ **real**_ _action yet…_

* * *

"But you've seen all those weapons," Germany protested against Prussia just days later, when they were back home. The two were going to have a combat training session together, and the teenager didn't seem to agree to Prussia's suggestion of practicing hand-to-hand combat. "Hand-to-hand is a thing of the past. It would never work on the battlefield."  
But Prussia shook his head, silencing his younger brother like that without a single word. "On the battlefield," he started explaining in a serious tone, "all is unpredictable. You never know when you'll end up face-to-face with your enemy. Outside of wartime, too, it is always a good thing to know how to defend yourself. What if you get mugged on the streets? That could happen right here in Berlin, and you would have no fire arms to fight with –no time to use them if you did, either." Convinced now, Germany nodded and said that he understood. Prussia went on: "My tactics used to be about using force to throw your opponent off-balance," he explained. "But I've been learning stuff from China and Japan when I went to their countries. They have very interesting fighting styles, based not on strength like mine was, but on speed."  
Germany's eyes sparked with interest now, and he could barely suppress a smirk from forming on his lips. "You mean, you're going to teach me Japanese karate, things like that?" He seemed disappointed when Prussia shook his head.  
"I'm not an expert. I can teach you my own personal style, which I adapted to match certain aspects of Asian martial arts." The Prussian then took a stance, explaining quickly that this was pretty much the basic stance Japan taught him for karate: left foot forward, most of his weight resting on that leg, hands folded into loose fists, of which one was raised to defend his face with and the other he held about as high as his stomach. "Let's see what you can do without much training beforehand. Try attacking me, Ludwig."  
A little doubtfully, Germany tried to copy Prussia's stance, then moved forward with a quick dash, fist raised to hit his brother in the face. Prussia stepped aside with ease, caught Germany's fist and pulled his arm behind his back in a swift motion, then twisted his wrist and pressed his thumbs against the back of the teen's hand. Germany froze immediately, just barely suppressing a yelp of pain. Prussia let go of him quickly, stepping back.  
When Germany had turned around again and looked at him in confusion, the albino held up his own hand and pointed out the exact same spots he'd hit on the young German's hand. "Pressure points," he said. "If you're quick and precise enough, you'll have no trouble hitting them. Some actually ease pain –eventually- while others can be lethal. One thing they all have in common, is that they're pretty damn painful, as you just felt." He then placed his hand just under Germany's ribs, on what Japan had told him was called the 'solar plexus'. "This one is horrible, and the easiest to hit. Try it on me; hit me on my chest or in my stomach, then hit me in this spot here, and compare the results."  
The teenage empire did as he was told, and when his fist collided with Prussia's ribs, the kingdom almost regretted his decision. Germany was stronger than he'd expected, and if he hadn't already cracked a bone, then he would most certainly have a huge bruise on that spot. Next when Germany delivered a similar punch to the plexus, the older nation doubled over and stumbled back, then even collapsed onto his knees just a few heartbeats later, gasping for breath.  
Germany looked shocked, apologising immediately. He bent down to help his brother up, his eyes wide. "Was it that bad?" he asked, almost scared. "I'm so sorry, brother, I didn't mean to-!"  
But Prussia smiled and shook his head. "That was exactly what was meant to happen!" he assured his little brother. "You did great, hitting the right spot in one go!" He still felt a little bit shaky, but he gave Germany a firm, approving pat on the shoulder, his eyes shining with pride. "You have a natural ability to fight, Ludwig, not just in this but in everything you've tried."  
Now, Germany smiled too, convinced that he hadn't hurt his brother too badly. "Well, if that's the case," he replied with a warm, happy smile, "I think I'm just taking after my brother; after all, I'd be literally nothing if it weren't for the Awesome Prussia."  
It was so rare for Germany to call him that. Maybe he'd done it without realising it, but that one simple sentence brightened the rest of the day for Prussia. It was good to know that, in a world where almost everyone despised him, at least his little brother loved him. And in his own way, a way that was constantly changing as he grew up and got more mature, he had never failed to express that love.

* * *

Time seemed to pass so quickly. And then, sometimes, it appeared to crawl by. Most of the time, life was good, but not always. Prussia hadn't changed one bit for as long as Germany could remember; one moment he was his likeable, kind self, then one minute later he'd be in a bad mood. He still had his frequent nightmares, too, like always. Germany, seeing no reason for his brother to be like that so often, was starting to get annoyed with him for it after all these years.  
Then there were also the things troubling Germany that didn't have anything to do with Prussia at all. The older he got, the more conscious he was of the situation he was in, the more worried he got about it.  
Late one night, two hours after he'd gone to bed, the young empire walked back out of his bedroom, a number of papers in his hand. First he went into the living room, dropping them on the table with a sigh. Prussia, who was still awake and calmly reading a book on the couch, beer within reach, looked up at this.  
Something flashed in his red eyes, but Germany couldn't read any emotion in them other than mild surprise. "Back so quickly?" the albino asked, his voice betraying more of his confusion than his eyes did. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."  
The younger German grunted and flopped down on the couch beside his brother, his eyes closed, rubbing his forehead a bit; he was tired and starting to get a headache, and those didn't go well together. Most certainly it had a negative effect on his mood. "Yeah, well," he said curtly, "obviously I'm not. Can't sleep."  
Prussia then eyed the papers that were strewn about the coffee table and cracked a smile. "Been reading scary bedtime stories?" he joked, chuckling a little. Germany could tell that, despite his tone, he was genuinely curious and somewhat worried for his little brother, and he was only talking like this to try and brighten the young teen's mood.  
It didn't really work so well, though, much to Germany's regret. He didn't want to disappoint his brother, not when he was obviously trying to help. "You could say that…" was all he answered, a soft sigh afterward. He opened his eyes again when he felt Prussia sit up straighter beside him.  
The kingdom placed his book beside him and grabbed the papers Germany had brought with him, slight disapproval flashing in his eyes when he saw that they were all official documents, reports and even a map of Europe with the current political situation illustrated on it. But he wasn't angry, only shook his head. "Ludwig, this isn't the sort of thing you should be reading late at night, anyway," he commented calmly.  
Germany only nodded. Then he didn't say anything for a little while, his heart racing in his chest and his stomach doing flips. It wasn't as though he'd read any new information, but being reminded of his situation wasn't the nicest thing either. Prussia, thankfully, didn't press him to start talking yet. He might, though, if it took too long to his liking, so the younger of the two brothers decided it was a good moment to start after two minutes or so. "I remember you once telling me that it holds more advantages for a nation to be feared by others than to be trusted," he said softly, meanwhile trying to force his heart to settle down again. "Well… I'm scared of _them._ " He glanced at the map again, on which the two main alliances in Europe were carefully illustrated: the Triple Entente, consisting of Russia, France and the UK, had Germany surrounded. "If they wanted to, they could easily attack us from two sides. And we know of at least one of them who would like nothing more…"  
Prussia was quiet for a moment, then shook his head. "There's no need to be frightened of France and his damn grudges. All right? And Russia may once have been strong, right now he's so far behind on everybody else, he's no threat."  
"France _could_ be," Germany put in. "And the UK are strong."  
Again, Prussia brushed it off. "I heard they're having trouble with Ireland lately; seems he's done with meekly accepting the status of being a colony. They'll want to avoid conflict anywhere else until he's settled down again."  
By now Germany was starting to get angry, and he narrowed his pale blue eyes at his brother. "You're not taking this seriously at all!" he accused him with a huff. "I'm saying that if a war were ever to break out between us and France –and it damn well will if he doesn't give up his precious _revanchisme_ \- then we'll have to deal with the UK and Russia as well. We're completely surrounded by them and… Is it really so weird that I'm not looking forward to having to fight them on two fronts?"  
Prussia fell quiet then, a flash of guilt in his eyes, but then he sighed and looked away. "No, it's not. I've done it before, and it feels horrible. But Ludwig, there may not be a war against them, so there's no need to worry yourself over what may be, but what just as well may not be." He nibbled on his lip for a moment, clearly not sure whether or not he should say any more, but then he looked back at his little brother. "But trust me, I know how it feels. The Seven Years' War that I fought was against Sweden in the north, France in the west, Russia to the east and Austria and Hungary to the south. But I pulled through, didn't I? How else would I be sitting here now?"  
"And how many times were you on the brink of death in that war?"  
"…Only twice."  
 _This isn't helping,_ Germany told himself with a sigh, though refusing to look at Prussia now. But the Prussian, in turn, refused to give up. "Ludwig, I swear… it'll be all right. It's a bit like… Like one of those nightmares you had when you were little!" He leant closer to his younger brother, insisting: "Remember the one? You told me you'd had a nightmare about a whole bunch of spiders, two decades or so ago already. Wow, how do I even remember this one…? Anyway, it's not much different from that: they're more afraid of you than you are of them, so there's no need to worry."  
It took a few seconds, but Germany then remembered what Prussia was referring to. And his brother had made a mistake in his reasoning just now. But he had succeeded in doing one thing: the younger German did feel just a little bit better, though mostly because Prussia's feeble attempts were starting to get funny, they were just so pathetic. "If you had even better memory, you'd know that I'm in no way scared of spiders-"  
"You used to pet them when you were little!"  
"And once or twice accidentally crushed them in the process. _But_ –and here's the thing- the ones in that nightmare were man-sized. They ate humans. So in this particular case, I believe it's safe to say that I _was_ more scared of them than they were of me." Smirking now, Germany looked Prussia in the eyes, and the albino was staring back with a blank gaze for a little while.  
Then, he too cracked a smile, chuckling softly. "All right, all right. Bad example. But, Ludwig, trust me…" Prussia then put his arms around his little brother, grinning wide and ruffling his hair. "It'll be fine. You'll be fine." His grin faded then, being replaced by a genuine warm smile. "And if anything does happen, then there's still no need to worry; you have what I didn't have in the Seven Year's War."  
Germany looked back at him, and Prussia smiled wider yet. "You've got me to support you through it all! You can count on me, Ludwig."  
The younger of the two brothers smiled back, and wrapped his arms around his older brother in a warm embrace, thanking him softly. But as he held Prussia like that, his mind put mostly at ease again, despite it being for other reasons than Prussia had initially planned, his mind wasn't _fully_ at ease yet.  
Because the older he got, the more conscious he was of the situation he was in, the more he had to wonder…  
 _Is it really me who can depend on you, my big brother,_ he asked Prussia in silence as the two let go of each other again. The Prussian was grinning at him in his usual way. This evening there hadn't been a trace of his other side, the angry Prussia, the sad and stressed one, the… the emotionally unstable man that he really was. But he was there, that other Prussia, more often than Germany liked, and when that was the case, the albino's words just now felt like nothing short of a lie.  
 _…Or do you depend on me instead?_

* * *

 **So another few years down XD 1914's getting real close now.**

 **I saw no way to include it in the chapter itself, but in the first scene, when little Ludwig tells Prussia that he made a list, Prussia's thoughts were something along the lines of "What the hell have I created?" He's the one who taught Germany how useful lists and manuals can be, and now the poor boy has become addicted to them XD**

 **Anyway, one of the main reasons for the outbreak of WWI was the competition of who had the most thriving industry and who used it to make the best weapons. Just last week I learned in class that people were actually positive-minded about the war when it started; it was a 'sport' back then, so to say, and this was their chance to show off all their great new inventions in the weapon industry. Yeah... until all those 'great new inventions' were actually used in real battle and the people saw just how much damage they caused. That's when the people's mindset about war changed from 'not too bothered by it' to 'war is the most horrible, inhumane thing ever!'  
...Because all the wars before that hadn't been enough of a hint yet, people? Honestly?**

 **Oh well. One of the main fears for the Germans was a battle on two fronts. It's actually the indirect reason that Germany, for a long time, got blamed the most for the war. It'll be explained in later chapters, if you don't already know what I'm referring to.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you liked the chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**First off, I'm sorry for this chapter being slightly late. I've been really busy last week and then I got sick, too...  
Oh well. Real-life stuff, anyway.**

 **Thanks to everyone who favourited, followed and/or reviewed! Once again I'm a bit too lazy to look up all the usernames, but thanks you all so much!**

 **Anyways, here's chapter 4:**

* * *

Now here was a messy situation.  
Germany stood wide-eyed, telephone in his hands, listening in shocked silence as Austria, for once completely enraged, ranted to him on the other end of the line. Someone had been assassinated? It was a big mess, anyway, and the young German struggled to understand everything his cousin told him.  
"I swear, Ludwig, they'll pay for what they did," the Austrian finished, sounding like he was actually out of breath after his angry rant.  
Germany nodded, trying to wrap his head around this overload of information. "All right, okay," he stammered, unsure what to say. "Your Archduke was assassinated today? By a Serbian? And you're certain it was a Serbian?" Austria seemed even angrier now that he realised Germany hadn't been listening fully –or at least hadn't heard it all. "So now you're planning to let… to let all of Serbia pay for it?"  
"Hasn't your brother taught you anything?" Austria snapped, and Germany flinched. This was very unlike his cousin, and he constantly had to tell himself that it was only because of the stress he was going through. "A Serbian assassinated my Archduke and his wife, and therefore, it is perfectly acceptable for the Serbian government to be held responsible. If they do not do anything about this, they will regret it."  
Germany still couldn't really grasp it, and Austria soon asked to speak to Prussia instead –a rarity. "W-well, err," the young German stammered, dreading that day already and wishing it was just a dream and that he'd wake up quickly. "He's out, h-his weekly trip to the cemetery. So…" But then, miraculously, the door opened and Prussia's voice came from the hallway, announcing his return. "You're in luck, he just came back…" Then Germany called out to his brother, who came running immediately. Germany quickly explained what had happened –the part that he understood at least- and he was only halfway through the story when Prussia took the phone from his hands, leaning against the wall as he spoke calmly to Austria.  
"So, got your leader assassinated, did you now?" he spoke casually, and Germany flinched yet again. Austria wasn't going to like that. "Well, sure it's all right for you to. Let them conduct an investigation first though, just for formalities. We both know what'll come out of it, don't we? Exactly, just what I mean." He chuckled for a moment, and Germany was even more confused now. "Then, once they're finished –or maybe if they refuse to, who knows?- send them that ultimatum you so hastily mentioned. Yes, yes, you'll have our full support. Listen, Sissy…" Suddenly a shadow seemed to pass over Prussia's eyes, and his expression darkened. His voice, too, was softer now, almost a low rumble, and there was a definite hint of the anger that lay inside him as a constant presence. "You and I both know that murder should never go unpunished. So whatever you do, we'll be right here, backing you up. Got it?" There was a brief silence, and Prussia nodded at the end of it. "Now go blow off that steam, Sissy, maybe play some Beethoven. He's the loud guy, right? Throw your anger into it, though not all, mind you: keep some for Serbia, too."  
Germany watched in silent horror as Prussia calmly put the telephone away, then stretched his back a bit. Despite his confusion, he'd understood the last part of what Prussia had told their cousin. His mind spinning, he kept on staring at his elder brother. Prussia only smiled at him. "What's that look for, Ludwig?" he asked calmly, the darkness in his eyes gone and no trace of the malice left in his expression. "Don't worry, little bro. I know, it's messy, but we'll come out just fine. We'll come out on top." He looked away for a moment, lost in thought it seemed, and mumbled half to himself: "We might want to prepare the army, though, just in case." He chuckled, didn't seem bothered by it at all.  
Germany, on the other hand, felt sick at the mere thought. "Prepare the army?" he echoed, horrified. "Y-you said… You agreed to…" His heart beat painfully fast. "Oh God… Why'd you tell him we would support him no matter what?"  
Prussia seemed confused about that question, as though the answer was obvious. Frankly, the answer really was an obvious one. "Because he's our ally," the Prussian stated flatly. "He supports us, we support him, and we're all stronger because of that alliance. Also, this is the most wonderful opportunity." Right after he said that, the malice came back, and Germany shivered briefly when he saw the most horrifying look of the darkest satisfaction in his brother's red eyes. He looked positively terrifying. Demonic. "This is exactly what I've been waiting for… It's perfect, Ludwig, just _perfect_!"  
Germany couldn't believe his ears. Was Prussia really saying this? What was going on? He didn't understand any of it anymore. "How is this perfect?" he choked out. "If Austria and Hungary declare war on Serbia, we know that Russia will support Serbia. Russia's in an alliance with France and the UK –just as we're forced to side with Austria-Hungary, they will side with Russia in this, and we'll be caught in the middle, and it'll be an all-out war and-!"  
"I know!" Prussia interrupted him, his lips twisted into a smile. It was sickening. "Ludwig, _if_ this ends in war, do you know what advantages we have over them? We have weapons, you've seen what we have. A strong fleet. We have an actual _army_ ; they're still operating on volunteer armies whenever a war starts! We have trained men who will be ready in the blink of an eye if we give them the order. No need to worry, brother dear. No need to worry at all."  
He started to walk away then, but just as he walked past Germany, the younger nation grabbed him by the arm and stared up at him, looking straight into his eyes. "Why aren't you taking this more seriously?" he demanded, unnerved by his brother's attitude concerning this rather than angry. "You're acting as if you _like_ this!"  
Prussia met his gaze calmly, red eyes gleaming with triumph. "Because, Ludwig," he answered with a shiver of excitement and delight in his voice, "by the time all this is over, more than _one_ murderer will have been punished for his deeds. I'll make sure of it." With those final words, he pulled his arm free from Germany's grasp and casually walked away, leaving the younger German to stare after him in astonishment.  
What was that supposed to mean?

* * *

Little more than a week later, the German Empire gave Austria-Hungary the 'blank cheque', meaning that they would support them no matter their actions from here on forward, just as Prussia had already promised them in person. The Serbian government refused to cooperate and investigate the assassination. Some of the Austrian council members pressed to attack Serbia already without sending a warning first, but they were outvoted in the end.  
Over the days that followed, Austria-Hungary were preparing an ultimatum for Serbia which, in case they would not follow it, would lead to war. Meanwhile in Germany it became clear that the people weren't opposed to a war. The General Staff even expressed their desire for war to break out; it would be the best way to show the world how much stronger Germany had become over the years, and now was the best time. Germany himself was calming down after his initial anxiety concerning the possible war that was to come, and his confidence only grew when he beat Prussia in a mock-battle once. The idea of a war didn't scare him anymore after some time; he would make it through. It would be hard, no doubt, but Prussia had been right. Everyone was right. The German Empire was strong, it was incredibly strong, and he shouldn't underestimate his people.  
But at the same time he got only more worried. While Germany was building up his confidence in preparation, studied strategies and trained for battle, Prussia had taken to secluding himself from his little brother, from Austria and Hungary, and even the humans he was expected to work with. Sometimes he just disappeared for a day, once he didn't come back for 40 hours. And if all that wasn't clear enough a sign of his deteriorating condition, the fact that he talked to himself a lot was. Sometimes he would have random outbursts of emotion; he would laugh hysterically or get indescribably angry, all over nothing. Once or twice, when the albino had locked himself up in his room, Germany had heard him cry, too. He barely slept anymore, his eyes rimmed with a dark blue-grey as though they were bruises, the whites of his eyes pinkish-red, bloodshot.  
He was slipping.  
Germany wanted nothing more than to talk to someone about it, ask advice on how to deal with this, but who could he talk to? Austria and Hungary were too busy, and when he did get a chance to talk to them, it hadn't felt like the right time. Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg probably couldn't help him. Switzerland wouldn't even want to. And that was it; those were all the people he had. He felt so helpless as he watched his brother sink deeper and deeper away. And into what? What was Prussia sinking into? Depression? An obsession with… whatever it was? …Madness?  
Once he could read his brother like a book, or it had felt like it anyway. Now he was an enigma, a mystery he had to solve, a code he had to crack before it was too late. But then again, wasn't it too late already?

* * *

This was wonderful. Relief was flooding Prussia's heart and mind, warmth spreading through his body as though carried through his veins. Everyone was here.  
His entire family was here with him, for the first time in decades.  
He didn't know whether to laugh, cry, be angry with them, or anything. He couldn't move for a moment, staring at each and every one of them, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest that he thought they must all be able to hear it. He couldn't even wonder why they were all here with him now, why it wasn't just one of them or why they hadn't done so before. What did it matter? They were here now, weren't they? That was all he cared about.  
He swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked away the tiny droplets that had formed in his eyes. "I missed you," he choked out, the only thing he could think of to say now. "I missed you all so much. I have always… I haven't given up yet. Did you know that? How hard I've been trying to solve this?"  
Brandenburg smiled warmly, though sadness shimmered in her eyes, too. "Of course we know." Holy Rome, standing not too far from the girl, nodded and echoed her words.  
"Isn't Ludwig doing wonderful lately? He has inherited traits of almost everyone!" Prussia went on, wanting to tell them everything he had to tell. "I thought I couldn't do it, see, raising him on my own. He turned out so much better than I could ever hope. I think I'll tell him about all of you sometime soon." He paused for a moment and shrugged, but he was too happy and excited to have this chance to stop talking now. "Well, of course he's heard about you guys from others, and he vaguely remembers you all, but still… I want to tell him what you were all like. He should know, shouldn't he?"  
As Prussia spoke, no one else made a sound. They just stood there, staring at him silently. Eventually the Prussian fell quiet again, returning the stares. Why wasn't anyone saying anything? He was beginning to feel uneasy now. "If this coming war is going to turn out as I predict it will," he said then, more softly, "I will make sure whoever killed you will be punished for it. I swear, I will."  
Still no reaction. The silence was deafening by now, the blank stares burning into his very soul.  
Prussia felt himself begin to tremble ever so slightly. What was wrong? Why didn't they talk or move? "Can't you tell me?" he asked, more nervously. "Please. Can't you tell me who did it?"  
Now, Saxony stared at him with narrowed brown eyes. "But you know who it was," he commented flatly. "After all, how could you ever forget? _You_ killed me."  
These words robbed Prussia of his breath, and he couldn't bring out a sound for a few painful heartbeats. Then, when he could speak again, his voice came out as a croaking whisper. "It was an accident," he reminded his elder brother. It was almost a plea. "You realise that, don't you? I didn't mean to… it was an accident."  
"Was it an accident," another voice suddenly began, sounding angry, "when you pierced my chest with your sword?" Bavaria, the first incarnation of the kingdom that Prussia had ever met before she'd died in 1704, was standing beside her sister Brandenburg with her chin held high and her eyes flashing with hatred.  
Prussia could only stare at her, barely able to breathe anymore. Involuntarily he took a step back, away from them. He shook his head slowly, unable to answer in any other way.  
"Was it an accident that you became Protestant?" Holy Rome demanded, and immediately Prussia stared at him, wide-eyed. "That you gave an example for others to follow? That the clash between Protestants and Catholics that followed was the first step to my ultimate demise?"  
"That I died in that war?" Württemberg, the first incarnation of him, added flatly.  
 _Are they telling me that the Thirty Years' War was my fault?_ Prussia thought desperately, hardly believing it. _What nonsense is that? How… Surely it wasn't?_  
"Was it an accident that you made me a province?" Hanover then asked him, his words cutting deeper yet. "That I became sick and frail in my last years, like Holy Rome was?"  
"You know who killed us, Prussia," Hesse told him calmly, the one person not accusing him of anything right now. But his words were no consolation. The last of the warmth left Prussia's body quickly when the eldest of the Germanic family added: "And you know who will be your downfall, too."  
It was astounding how quickly the atmosphere had gone from warm and pleasant to cold and uncomfortable like this. Prussia wanted nothing more than to turn and run. Was this what they all thought about him? He looked to Brandenburg for any confirmation that it wasn't so, but even in her normally loving gaze, he couldn't find any trace of kindness.  
He couldn't take this. There was no way he could take this. His stomach cramped with guilt and his head was spinning. He glanced at each of his lost family members once more, then spun around quickly. But he couldn't take a single step away from them before something cold slid into his chest, piercing his heart. He felt the knife stay lodged in his flesh as it was for just a short moment before it was pulled out of him again, but even then, the pain and the sheer, bitter cold it left in his chest didn't even lessen a tiny bit. On the contrary, the pain only got worse as he stared straight into Germany's icy blue eyes.

With a fearful yelp, Prussia woke up. He sat up in his bed, trembling and his breathing coming in shallow intakes of air. That had been just a dream. The moment Germany showed up in his dream, he realised his family hadn't been real either, not in the way they had those few precious times. Their words had been his own imagination, echoes of his fears. _It hadn't been real._  
"I didn't kill them," he told himself under his breath, trying hard to sound convincing. "I didn't. Not… not _all_ of them." And Germany most certainly hadn't.  
That is, Germany hadn't been the one to make their hearts stop. But he was, without a doubt, the reason they were all gone.  
And without a doubt, Prussia was the reason Germany existed.  
…He was the reason they were all dead.

With a lot of difficulty, Prussia managed to shrug that thought off, and instead sat calmly in the darkness of his bedroom, waiting patiently for Germany to come walking in like he still did more often than not. But the only sounds he heard were the ticking of the clock and his own heartbeat. Germany hadn't woken up, and Prussia was glad of it. He didn't really want to talk now. He could never talk about any of this. He didn't even know how.  
After a few minutes, feeling wide-awake and too shaken to fall back asleep anyway, the Prussian got up and quickly threw on a shirt. He went into the kitchen quietly and thinking of making some tea like Germany always did. But he didn't really like tea that much, anyway. He would much rather just get a beer, grab a book, try to chase away his nightmares like that. Alcohol was probably better in this case, anyway; it numbed the mind more than any herb could ever do.

* * *

Germany stood motionless in the doorway that morning, feeling numb as he saw his brother dozing on the couch; a book lay open on his chest and there was an empty bottle just within his reach on the table; two more stood on the floor beside the couch, also empty. The albino was paler than he normally was, the dark lines under his eyes making an even starker contrast to his snow-white skin.  
Germany sighed and went over to his side, and he was hardly surprised when Prussia opened his eyes groggily. He hadn't been asleep. "Have you slept at all last night?" the younger nation asked flatly.  
Prussia yawned, sitting up with a grunt. "For a little while, yes. But those unawesome nightmares…"  
"Nightmares again?" Germany echoed, feeling a pang of pity for his brother, and guilt too. If he hadn't slept through it, maybe he could've helped and Prussia wouldn't have ended up quite like this. _No,_ he then told himself, replacing that pity with anger. It was the next best thing he could think of to feel now. _If he's too stupid to look after himself, that's his damn problem._ He huffed, nodding to the empty beer bottles. "And so you decided to start drinking? Damn fool."  
"Don't judge," Prussia snapped, struggling to his feet. He staggered, though, and Germany had to catch him. The exhaustion was clearly catching up with him.  
 _And that while we're preparing for a war that_ _ **you**_ _were so positive about!_ Germany was starting to get really angry with him now, but the worry he felt for his brother was still stronger. He helped Prussia back onto the couch, then stared at him just a moment longer. "I'm getting a doctor," he declared, and Prussia's red eyes widened in shock. Still, Germany insisted. "You're not well, Prussia. Just let me do this for you."  
But Prussia shook his head. "Please don't, Ludwig. There's no doctor in the whole world who can help me, trust me on that." He was quiet for a moment, realising what he'd said, then added more softly: "I'm fine."  
Germany couldn't control himself right now, and he slapped Prussia's face hard. The albino flinched. "You're _not_ fine, brother!" the young German shouted at him. "If not a doctor, then who should I get for you? A psychiatrist? The goddamned _mental asylum?_ " He could see how much that last one hurt Prussia, and he hadn't even known himself that he was thinking of that until he blurted it out. But he didn't apologise, and he didn't hold back. This had to end right now. "If you're not going to help yourself, then let me help you! _Please!_ I used to always know what you were thinking, it seemed, but now…" He fell silent for just a moment, taking a deep breath before confessing: "But I don't anymore. I'm starting to doubt I ever really did. And it scares me, brother. _You_ scare me."  
The two stared at each other for a little while, silent, and as Germany gazed into his brother's red eyes, he thought he could finally see some traces of what really lay hidden within him. It was a deep, dark pit, devoid of any light, and it scared him. But then Prussia blinked, almost as if he could feel Germany looking into his soul, and all those dark emotions were hidden once again, like they had never been there. "Humans can't help me…" the Prussian then choked out, his voice barely any louder than a whisper.  
Germany was ready to give up now, but suddenly Prussia tentatively reached for his brother's hand, hovering there for a moment until Germany showed him that it was all right, and then the kingdom carefully wrapped his fingers around his little brother's hand. A silent plea lay in his eyes as he stared up at Germany. "Will you… come with me today?"  
The young German didn't know where he was planning to go, but he didn't have the heart to say no. Silently, he nodded.

* * *

Germany hadn't expected to be taken to the cemetery by his brother –he'd never been there with him before, and out of respect, he'd never gone there on his own, either. If Prussia didn't want him to, he wouldn't. But now the kingdom had taken him here. And why? What for?  
Prussia didn't tell him. He just went down the path he'd followed literally thousands of times now, and Germany followed silently. When the Prussian halted in front of an old, worn gravestone, he still didn't say a word to his little brother. And as his older brother knelt down in front of the grave, Germany inspected the stone; time had made a crack in the hard rock and the letters were worn as well. But he could still read the simple inscription with ease. _The Margraviate of Brandenburg 1157-1704_. How weird it was, to see a nation's name on a gravestone.  
But then he looked at Prussia instead. He'd begun mumbling to the grave. Well… to Brandenburg, probably. "I need you, Brand… You, or Fritz, or Holy Rome… preferably you, though." He tried to chuckle for a moment, but Germany could hear that he was closer to crying than anything else. "I'm losing it here, I know I am… I'm so sorry, Brand, you must all be disappointed in me by now… that I'm too weak to keep it together after all these years. I'm supposed to look after Ludwig, and look where we're at. How is it all right for him to be the one looking after me?"  
 _Exactly._ Germany wanted to say that it was all right, that he didn't mind it, but he couldn't lie. Especially with what was to come, he needed Prussia. This was his first war, and considering that warfare was basically a talent of Prussia's, he could really use his advice. And not just that. He needed his big brother, just to know that, together, they would get through anything, whether the war would be over in the blink of an eye or if it lasted a century. Prussia's state of mind was only adding to his stress now.  
Prussia sounded like he was crying now; Germany was standing behind him, so he wasn't sure quite yet. "Please Brand… tell me it wasn't my doing… _Please._ " Now he really was crying, and Germany felt frozen to the spot as he listened to it. "I'm willing to give up this hopeless search for the truth, just so long as I know it wasn't _me._ To hell with revenge! But please just tell me… please…"  
It took Germany a while before he could move again, but then he knelt down beside Prussia and tentatively wrapped his arms around him. "It's all right, brother… Whatever it is, I'm sure it's all right."  
But Prussia shook his head. "I'd been wondering for so long… and Austria said it, too. Was he right? W-what if he was?"  
 _Right about what?_ Germany wanted to know so bad. But even in the state he was in now, Prussia didn't tell him anything. At least now he had a name, though, a person he could ask about this. Next chance he got to talk to Austria, he would take it regardless of whether it was the right moment or not.  
Prussia was already hugging Germany back, clasping his jaws in a desperate attempt to stop crying. After a minute or so it worked. He let out a shaky sigh, and Germany could feel the tension in his brother's muscles lessen already. "I'm so sorry, Ludwig," he said in a soft voice, still quivering lightly. "All this time I've been trying to be a good brother, all these years. And I've always failed… I know my mental health isn't the best right now, I know it very well. Actually… I'm in no way fit to raise a child –or teenager. Not like this." He moved away from Germany, sitting at an arm's length from him and staring him straight in the eyes. Germany could almost cry in joy; that was the brother he knew, the one he saw in those eyes. That was the brother he'd missed all this time. "I must be the most unawesome brother ever," the albino sighed sadly. "You deserve so much better than me. They should've kept Hesse alive for you, not me. He would've done a good job, unlike me, who relies more on you than the other way around sometimes. And now with that war threatening to start I've just… completely ignored the fact it's your first. _Of course_ you're scared about your first war –I know I was! Yet here I am, basically cheering the chaos on… I'm so sorry."  
Germany didn't know what to say for a moment. But when Prussia sighed and said it was probably too late to turn things around now, the younger nation shook his head. "It's not too late yet," he assured his brother. "You can't turn back time and make up for, admittedly, sometimes being quite the lousy caretaker in the past. But since you just mentioned the possibility of a war…" He bit the inside of his lip and, ashamed, stared at the ground. "It's not that I'm afraid we'll die or anything. I _know_ we're strong enough and I _know_ we'll be fine. But still… I can't help… being scared." He took a deep breath and looked Prussia in the eyes again. "If ever there was a moment for you to be a brother I can rely on, it's now, even if that war turns out to be a false alarm. All right?"  
Prussia smiled gratefully. "You're giving me more chances than I deserve, Ludwig."  
Germany only shrugged. "Perhaps. But what else can I do? You're all I have." He got up again, and Prussia followed just a heartbeat later. "And what happened to you being Mr Awesome and all that idiocy?"  
Now Prussia laughed, and the sound warmed Germany's heart. Now that was genuine laughter, and not the hysterical kind his brother had sometimes done. "Well, I suppose not even the incarnation of Awesomeness can be 100% awesome _all_ the time!" He fell quiet again, looking at Germany with a serious red gaze. "I'll get help, Ludwig. I promise. I probably do need to talk, but… but not to you. It wouldn't be fair on you if I bothered you with all this crap, all right? But I will get help."  
Germany nodded and said he was glad he would. Then when the kingdom suggested they'd go home again –or maybe to a tavern to grab a beer ("Who cares it's only just past noon?")- the younger German agreed. But first he asked if it was all right if he stayed behind here just a moment longer. Prussia looked surprised, but didn't try to stop him.  
The young empire waited until his brother was out of earshot, then took a step closer to Brandenburg's grave. He hadn't heard much about her. Not as much as one would expect. He knew from how often Prussia went here that he had loved her dearly and that she'd been very important to the albino, but it hadn't been until he'd read about the existence of Brandenburg-Prussia in his history lessons about a decade ago that he'd found out Prussia and Brandenburg had once been married. He had tried to ask Prussia about it, but his brother didn't want to hear any of it. Eventually Germany had asked Hungary, knowing she would tell him anything, and she had told him that, at first, neither Prussia nor Brandenburg had been too happy about their forced marriage. It took time for them to learn to live with each other as husband and wife, and even longer for them to actually love each other as more than just the cousins they were. And shortly after they'd gotten so close they could hardly imagine life without one another, Brandenburg had been killed in battle. It had taken Prussia ages to move on, if he ever truly had.  
But even so, Germany could probably count the times he'd heard his brother even say her name on one hand. It was only now that he was beginning to understand why: he missed her too much. To avoid pain, he avoided conversations about her. Just as he did all the siblings and cousins he'd once had. The family that Germany only vaguely remembered.  
Germany took a deep breath, then started talking. "Thank you for having been there for my brother," he said softly, hesitating at first, but after the first two or three words that hesitation faded quickly. "I understand that losing you is likely one of the reasons he is like this now, but I can't even imagine what he would have been like if you had never been there. I don't know the details, but I know that he's had a hard life even if he hadn't lost all those people he loved. So… thank you. For having been there for him… Brandenburg."

* * *

Days later, on 23 July, Austria-Hungary presented their ultimatum to the Serbian government. In short, they wanted to take part in the investigations regarding the assassination of Franz Ferdinand. They wanted Serbia to erase anything that might be anti-Austria-Hungary. All in all, though, it was impossible for Serbia to comply, yet if they didn't send a reply within 48 hours, Austria-Hungary would march on Serbia and start the war everyone by now knew was coming.  
That same day, Britain tried to convince Germany and Russia to mediate between Austria-Hungary and Serbia in an attempt to stop the war.  
What happened in the days after was a blur to Germany. It had been too much to take everything in, but one big change in his own attitude concerning the war had occurred in those days, somehow: influenced by his people and perhaps also Prussia, he was no longer against starting this war. He didn't like it, he probably never would, but he wouldn't try to stop it. And even if he did, what use was it? Only an idiot would think war wasn't inevitable at this point.  
Austria and Hungary declared war on Serbia on the 28th. Subsequently, Russia declared war on Austria to support Serbia on the 30th, and the German Empire was forced to participate and support Austria. Not that they were in any way unwilling to.  
On that same day, at a Prussian State Council, it was decided that there was no need to worry about Russia. Considering the state of the country and its almost archaic government and military, there was no way they could mobilise their army in time to pose a real threat to Germany.  
In order to avoid war on two fronts like Germany so feared, a fear he shared with many people ever since the establishment of the empire and even before then, they decided to make use of the Schlieffen Plan, an offensive strategy created a few years back in case something like this were to happen. France hadn't yet declared war on Germany and Austria, but considering the Triple Entente was still there, he no doubt would. If they waited for that to happen, then they might be in trouble with the Russian army having had time to mobilise anyway. So they chose to resort to these, admittedly not very ethical, tactics.  
The plan was to invade France before they would declare war on Germany, going through Belgium to get there –thanks to the Maginot line, it was more difficult to invade France over their shared border. Hopefully taking the French by surprise, they expected to be done quickly, from which point onward the German army would cross to the east to fight Russia's army. It wasn't fail-proof, but it was definitely the best way to go about it. Wasn't it? Strong as they were, the Germany military couldn't handle a battle on two fronts. They had no choice if they wanted to get through this war without too much damage.

And just like that, Germany found himself among soldiers on 4 August 1914, on the border with Belgium, marching into neutral territory. Just before crossing the border, he sighed and closed his eyes. _Forgive me, Belgium,_ he pleaded with his cousin in silence. He didn't want to imagine what this must feel like to her. She had always been so kind to Germany… Just look how he was repaying all that kindness. _It's nothing personal. It sounds cliché, I know… but it's true._  
Prussia was walking by Germany's side, and the young empire looked at his brother for a moment, finding reassurance in the knowledge that he was there. Prussia looked so confident. He had done this countless times before, naturally. Still, to Germany it seemed like the military uniform the albino wore hadn't been made for Prussia, but Prussia had been made for the military instead. He was where he was supposed to be, it seemed. Surrounded by soldiers and with a weapon in his hands. His face betrayed no emotion at all, except for a fierce determination to once again serve his people.  
He was like the God of War to Germany, the mythical Ares. And though it wasn't directly visible, Germany also knew that Prussia possessed another deity's qualities as well: without a doubt, he had the brains and strategic skills to match Athena's. If anyone was unbeatable, it was him.  
Yet, when Prussia noticed Germany's stare and looked back at him, he smiled warmly, looking all too human. And that, too, was reassuring.  
Ever since that morning on the cemetery, something had changed in Prussia, and it had changed for the better. Germany didn't know exactly how it had happened, but so long as it stayed this way, he didn't care. Now that he needed him most, he had his brother by his side, someone strong to put his trust in, someone he knew would look after him until the day he didn't need that anymore. And even then, they would be there for each other.

And so, despite feeling guilty toward Belgium and despite any doubts he might still have, Germany marched into what would be his very first battle with confidence.

* * *

 **It probably turned out messier than I like,but... well.**

 **Anyway, as I mentioned last week, here's one of the reasons Germany gets the majority of the blame for WWI. If you think of war as a 'game' of sorts, they just kind of cheated. First it was Austria-Hungary's turn, next up was Russia, then Germany, then France... oh, but Germany didn't wait for France to play their move. Self-defense, you say? Doesn't change the fact that it was a foul! ...something like that. It's as my teacher explained it anyway.  
It's not the only reason, but it is one of them.**

 **Also, Prussia's... well, almost 'desire' for this war is partly influenced by his people. That is, most of the generals and such that I've read about so far were Prussian. Von Schlieffen was, and Moltke and Hindenburg and Falkenhayn and... A lot. And the majority of them actually appeared to _want_ a war. I suppose it could only end up affecting Prussia as well. (Though another big part of it was his desire for the revenge he mentioned several times in CYH...)**

 **As for Germany, well, I know that the German Empire was, all in all, positive about the war when it started. They didn't worry too much, it would be a quick war and an easy victory and they'd all be home again before Christmas and stuff like that... But Germany's still sort of a child here. He's young, anyway, and this is his first real war. Of course he'd be a little reluctant and also scared, at least at first.**

 **Enough talk now, anyway. I hope you liked the chapter, and I'll apologise now if the next chapter(s) is/are late as well. One definitely will be, as I will be in Rome for a week with a busy schedule every day (and most importantly no computer) in two weeks' time. And besides that I'm just really busy lately (final exams' year is as busy as I feared it would be). So even if I'm late, no worries, I won't quit the story!**

 **Have a lovely week, all~**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks again to everyone who followed, favourited and/or reviewed! You guys are too awesome to describe, honestly!  
HetaliaGirl-21, I'm learning all this in class right now too. Well, at lightning speed (I wanted to use the word blitz, but that would have been the most terrible pun ever in more than one way...) because this was two weeks ago, I think, and we're now doing Hitler's rise to power (and oh my god he's worse than I had thought even knowing all the horror that he unleashed on the world!) and I believe next week we're already doing WWII... final exams year... I love you (no, not really... you're not giving me enough time per subject to enjoy history like I used to! *sobs*)  
Pinkdoughnuts, glad to see you're back! And lastly, awesomecookies, happy belated birthday ;) Hope you enjoyed the 'present'.**

 **Also, this has been in my head since I started HtD (or maybe before that?) but I have found yet another song that perfectly describes our poor Prussian. This time his mental state. Does anyone know Tokyo Ghoul? (I've never watched it, I must admit) Yeah. The opening song _Unravel_. Not so much the original Japanese lyrics, but one certain English dub of it. He didn't write the lyrics, but just because he's done an awesome job with that song I recommend Caleb Hyles's cover of it. So yeah... if you can be bothered to, type his name in YouTube with 'unravel' and... it's exactly Prussia's mental state. For the love of Fritz.  
(Actually there's many songs that I listened to while writing that I now associate with Prussia: "It's over, isn't it?" from Steven Universe, about Hungary and Austria and the "and she's gone" part refers to Brand... And of course "Wait for it" from Hamilton for the general struggle to the top his life has been, as I mentioned in CYH... and then some XD Music is my muse as I write)**

 **Okay, really lastly now, I hope I manage to upload the next chapter before I go to Rome, but be prepared for an updateless week. Sorry if it happens.**

 **With all that out of the way:**

* * *

Things weren't exactly going as planned.  
The German army had won their first battle that year, a battle at Mulhouse, which had lasted from the 7th to the 10th of August. That battle continued on the 14th and was to last until the 26th. On the 12th, in Belgium, the Germans lost against the Belgians, though it was in no way a major loss. On the 14th, another battle also started, this one near Lorraine.  
So far, neither Germany nor Prussia had really fought much themselves. They had both been in Mulhouse at first, but after two days on the battlefield there they had been called away from the fighting to work on strategies instead. Germany was all too glad about it, Prussia on the other hand did not like being away from all the action. Something else the albino disliked, was that he felt he wasn't taken nearly as seriously as he used to be in previous wars when he suggested tactics.  
"Who here has the most experience with this, huh?" he complained to his younger brother one day, the 15th, after they'd been dismissed for the day. Well, the night. They had been working with the General Staff from dawn till dusk. Prussia huffed as he sat down on the corner of their table. "Back in the day, they used to listen to me a lot more. Old Fritz actually gave me the final decision once or twice –not that it always worked out well, but that was because of my boasting. I should've just admitted that I felt like crap in Kunersdorf. But anyway…"  
He went on like that for a little while longer, naming all the things he hadn't gotten the chance to suggest that day, all the things he didn't agree with, and then some. Germany just listened to it, slightly amused by it all. Strange as it was, the war seemed to be doing Prussia more good than bad; now that he had something which demanded near-constant attention, he didn't even have the time to think about the things he'd been struggling with for so long. "But so far we're doing well, brother," the young empire reminded the older nation when he was done ranting. "We've suffered one loss, and it was minor."  
"And how long has this war lasted?" Prussia countered. "11 days. Not even 2 weeks have passed, and we've already lost once. Against _Belgium._ I mean, I like her and all, but I swear on my Awesome Eagle! Losing against _Belgium._ My God… And those guys on the General Staff really call themselves Prussian?" He shook his head disapprovingly, but didn't say anything else about it. Instead he next inspected Germany for a moment, then sighed a little. "You've been awfully quiet today, compared to before. Was it bad?"  
Germany knew without asking that he was referring to the battles going on in different places. The young nation shrugged. "I don't know what 'bad' is, honestly. It was… the same as before, I suppose. A bit worse than before, but not by much."  
Prussia nodded thoughtfully. "Fighting two battles at the same time. Mulhouse and Lorraine… That's bound to hurt more." He grinned, though it held some hints of a grimace as well. "Trust me, you'll know what 'bad' feels like when you get there."  
Germany sighed and nodded, not doubting that for a second. He'd felt pain before of course, in training sessions with Prussia or with dumb accidents, but this type of pain was something else. He didn't want to whine, but he already didn't like it much. The young nation then looked at Prussia, wondering why he had to ask about it. Didn't he feel it himself, too? No, he probably just asked to hear how Germany experienced the pain. After a life like Prussia's, he was probably used to this, so to him it didn't matter much.

But just two days later he was proven wrong, when Prussia started acting a bit off during another strategy meeting and progress evaluation. It was such a minor thing, but Germany noticed his brother was writing a bit more slowly, the letters on the paper looking a tiny bit shaky and a little stiff. Then when he could put his pen down again, he saw Prussia clench his left hand into a fist then relax it again, stretching his fingers a little and repeating this several times.  
Just tiny things, hardly noticeable, but it lasted long enough for Germany to ask him about it. Prussia just shrugged. "Hand's just a bit stiff, Ludwig; such things tend to happen when you've been writing for days straight, almost."  
Germany nodded and decided not to say anything about him not having any such problems, though he had been forced to make notes and write reports as much as Prussia was.  
But then, just minutes later, someone walked in to deliver a telegram that had just been sent from the province of Eastern Prussia. General Von Moltke was the one to receive it, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he read the message. When he lowered the slip of paper again, Prussia was the first person he looked at. "It appears that the Russian army has attacked the Eighth Army today."  
Something flashed in Prussia's eyes, but his voice was even when he said softly: "They're close to Königsberg… Yes, those corps there were the Eighth, I'm sure of it."  
Germany felt a pang of distress now, too, one that became like a thunderbolt striking him in the heart just moments later. The Russians were attacking? How? They shouldn't have been able to mobilise their troops so quickly! Not just that, but if they had attacked the German Eighth Army, which was close to Königsberg indeed, then that meant Russia was already close to Prussia's capital; the two German brothers had figured out that, when Germany was born and took Berlin as his capital, Prussia's heart represented Königsberg again like it had before he'd inherited Berlin from Brandenburg. And not just for his brother's sake, this was a worrying fact. After all, the Prussian capital was of great importance to the Empire, the historical centre of the Empire's historical centre, a strong, major military hub. They couldn't afford to lose it, or even have it damaged much.  
Von Moltke sighed and shook his head. "A war on two fronts after all… and so quickly, too. They're in Stallupönen now; François is dealing with them."  
Prussia, remaining strangely calm under this, only nodded silently. His eyes, however, shone with a certain discomfort and also confusion, similar to what Germany felt, and the younger nation was both glad he wasn't the only one, and worried over his brother's reaction. If Prussia wasn't positive-minded over this, is must be as bad as Germany feared it was.  
Von Moltke, who had clearly been mulling the situation over, cleared his throat loudly. The old general looked at the two nations with an even gaze. "You're both dismissed for the time being; I need time to think about how to deal with this, contact Prittwtitz, gather intel… I expect you back in two hours."  
Germany blinked at this, surprised. They were nations! Shouldn't they be there as they gathered information and made plans? He glanced at Prussia, who still said nothing but did sent the old human a quick glare as he got to his feet. He walked away without looking back, but Germany first saluted, as he should, before following his brother.

* * *

Prussia scoffed as he stared at the floor, not even looking up when Germany caught up with him and walked by his side. "So it _is_ as I thought," he muttered then, half to himself. Angrily he gritted his teeth. "We're not here for strategies and tactics, Ludwig; they would've let us stay if we were. They would _listen_ to me." Now he looked up, over his shoulder, and glared at the door to the room where the General Staff was. All those humans knew, from hear-say if not from personal experience, that he was the best strategist they had. That he was the strongest soldier, too. But right now they wouldn't let either him or Germany serve either purpose. With a huff, Prussia turned back to stare ahead of him, chin raised defiantly. "They're keeping us here to serve as indicators, Ludwig. So they can keep track of how the war's affecting the nation. That's all we're here for."  
Germany didn't seem to understand the problem as he asked: "And… that's not been done before?"  
Prussia scowled, his heart pounding in rage. "No! Well… not like this anyway." Of course they had done so before, his leaders and generals. "But they never kept me from the battlefield," he explained, forcing himself to at least sound calm. He didn't want to take his anger out on Germany; he had the show him that he was doing better, after all. He had to appear controlled. "Not unless I physically just couldn't fight anymore, if I was too injured or too sick from the effects of prolonged warfare." The albino sighed, his voice softer as he added: "I want to be out there, on the battlefield. I don't care if I fought or if I healed, I'm awesome in both, but I want to be of use, really serve our people, and not just be kept here for convenience's sake."  
Now Germany seemed to understand. But he didn't fully agree. "I don't know…" he sighed as he kept on walking beside Prussia, though his pace slowed just the tiniest bit. "I didn't really like fighting so much, either. But… I do want to do something useful, and this isn't it."  
"Fighting is something you have to get used to," Prussia assured his younger brother, a tiny smile on his lips as he finally looked at the young nation. "You don't have to end up enjoying it, but it'll feel a lot more natural to you once you've done it a few times. And I must admit, warfare these days is completely different from what it used to be when I was little; back then an entire army would sometimes have the size of what a _section_ of one –First, Second, so on- nowadays looks like. I remember when it used to hurt when I lost a couple hundred people in battle, instead of having to lose a few thousand before it gets really painful. And then there's the guns…" He trailed off, feeling a shiver go down his spine. But soon he cracked a smile again, wider now, hoping it looked convincing enough. "Let's just say, my introduction to warfare was a lot easier than yours! But you'll get there. Truly, you will."  
Germany nodded, and then a silence fell between the two, which the younger nation broke again when they got outside. "So… what to do in the coming two hours?"  
"…I haven't a clue…"

* * *

Time passed both achingly slowly and quicker than expected.  
Back with the General Staff, the two nations listened to what the humans had decided for them. It started out as something they could both agree to.  
Von Moltke addressed them calmly. "Prussia," he began, looking at the kingdom, "you have expressed your disagreement with your being here and not on the battlefield several times now, and we've decided that you're right. You're to both return to join our soldiers at the front by tomorrow."  
Prussia nodded and thanked him softly, adding under his breath that it was about time. Germany didn't react, but he didn't seem disapproving to Prussia, so that was good. He was about to ask which corps they were to join, but the old general already continued his explanation.  
"Germany, you're going to join with the First Army in their advance through Belgium to capture Brussels."  
 _Wait a moment…_ Prussia's heart skipped a beat even before he heard his name being spoken. He understood in a flash what this old man was saying and going to say still, and it hit him like lightning. Freezing cold lightning. He found himself already protesting before Von Moltke had a chance to finish, the two speaking simultaneously. "No… No…"  
"Prussia, you will head to Königsberg…"  
"No… No, you can't…"  
"…from where General Von Prittwitz will assign you to whichever corps he sees fit."  
" _No!_ "  
Von Moltke looked startled for just a split-second when Prussia raised his voice like that. The nation's heart was pounding against his ribs, so fast, so hard, it hurt. His breath was shallow with panic as he stared from the old Army Chief of Staff to his little brother and back again. Germany looked shocked as well, but he remained silent, staring at Prussia as the kingdom protested fiercely. "Y-you can't," Prussia protested, his voice shaky. "You can't separate us –it's his first war! A-and look at him, he… he's just a teenager! I can't, I _won't_ leave my little brother to face this on his own!"  
Germany shook his head, but he didn't seem to know what to say. "I can go to Königsberg," he suggested in a soft voice, looking more like a child than he had in ages. "O-or Prussia can come to the First Army…" But then he looked at Prussia. "I… I'll be fine on my own… brother."  
But Prussia wouldn't accept it. He shook his head fiercely and then glared at the elderly human once more. "I promised I would help him!" he raged on. "I'm not leaving Ludwig's side, not ever!"  
Von Moltke was trying to interrupt, but Prussia didn't give him the chance. It took until the general raised his voice as if he was addressing his soldiers that Prussia shut up –after all, he was a soldier, always had been at heart. He couldn't ignore an order like this one, not for long. "You will have no choice, Prussia," Von Moltke told him. "If we want to make use of both your skills and immortality in the most efficient way possible, we'll need to divide it equally over the fronts, and you will take care of the Easter Front because it's your _home_. It's where you grew up and I have no doubt you know every hill and every tree in the area surrounding Königsberg. _That_ is why." He was silent for just a few seconds, straightening his back further yet and raising his chin in a clear display of authority. It reminded Prussia in just a heartbeat why exactly this man had been called back out of his retirement to lead the army. He was perhaps the most formidable military leader they had right now. "Germany is young and inexperienced in war, I know, but he's strong and capable enough. You've taught him well, Prussia, I see no reason why you should worry about him."  
"But he's my little brother…" Prussia protested, more feebly now. He knew he wasn't going to win this debate. "He… he needs me…" _I need him_. He then turned to stare at Germany, looking at him in silence for a little while. Then, in a rush of emotion, he wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…" he whispered to him. "Oh, God, Ludwig… Be careful out there…"  
Germany nodded, standing rigid for a moment. He still didn't want to act 'indecent' in front of a highly respected general like Von Moltke. But after a few seconds, the younger brother broke, too, and returned the hug. "I will," he promised, sounding choked up. "I will if you will."  
"Good," Prussia sighed. "Good boy… that's my little brother for you…" He let go of Germany, instead holding his little brother's face, just inches away from it with his own, and looked him straight in the eyes. "Now remember what I told you about battles. The worst thing that can happen on the battlefield-"  
"I know," Germany interrupted, trying to nod, but Prussia's grip on him was too strong. "Emotions."  
Prussia nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, those. Try not to feel while you fight, because that's what'll make you lose a battle. Fear-"  
Yet again, the younger nation interrupted, finishing for him the lesson Prussia had repeated time and time again. "Fear may strengthen the body, it weakens the mind," he recited. "And when the mind weakens, it loses control over the body. Rage may strengthen your focus, but only on the target of your rage; you'll forget to pay attention to everything else and you'll get in trouble. Stay level-headed and shut down your emotions. I know, you told me many times."  
Feeling a little more reassured now that he knew his little brother had memorised his lessons, Prussia nodded one last time, took a deep breath and stepped away from him. But as he looked at Germany, his heart still skipped a beat. He knew that Germany was old and strong enough to take care of himself, he knew it with all his heart, but he still saw the little child he'd raised when he looked at him, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that Germany was as capable of looking after himself as he had been at that age. _Physical age,_ a voice in the back of his head reminded him. _You were centuries old before you looked like this._ Germany was only 43 years old as of yet. Well… in 2 months he would be. He was younger than the human they were talking to right now. _No, no, no! He's strong. He's independent. He's smart enough not to do something stupid. He'll be fine._ With difficulty the Prussian tore his gaze from Germany, hoping to avoid getting even more emotional over it.  
Von Moltke nodded approvingly. "Try not to worry, Prussia," he added to the kingdom, his gaze suddenly a lot softer than it had been. At least he acknowledged that this was a difficult thing for the two brothers, who had hardly ever spent longer than 2, 3 days at most apart from one another. "You have an amazing younger brother there, he can take care of himself." Then the elderly human looked at Germany instead, his lips twitching into a brief, tiny smile. "I have all faith in you, young empire."

* * *

From there on everything seemed to happen in a flash. It felt like it was just seconds later, not 3 days, that Germany found himself in the newly captured Belgian capital Brussels, surrounded by his people but utterly lonely all the same.  
He couldn't remember ever having been separated from Prussia before. He knew that, when he was a baby, his siblings took turns looking after him, though Prussia had the main responsibility. But back then, when the Empire had only been newly established, the kingdom had basically been drowning in work and Germany was taken care off by the others, too. Those were the few things he recalled of them: he knew that the young woman in his memories was Brunswick, the scary-looking man with the scar near his eye (why did he remember a small detail like that, anyway?) had been Hesse, who had actually been a lot kinder than he'd looked. There was one who always appeared a little sickly, something he'd copped on to even as the little toddler he'd been when he'd last seen his siblings. According to Prussia, that had been Hanover, whose health started failing him after he became a province. He was one of the few nations who probably would have died after a few years, anyway, having lost his status as a true nation. But the most vivid of his memories of when he was that little consisted of a cocky grin on porcelain-white skin, eyes sparkling like rubies every single time the elder brother laid eyes on the empire he'd created. Prussia had always been so proud of Germany, no matter what he did. It had been Prussia who had taught him to walk. It had been Prussia who had taught him to talk ('awesome' being one of the first words he'd learnt, thanks to him). It had been Prussia who had taught him everything he'd ever known.  
 _Prussia_ was all he'd ever known.  
 _Don't think about that,_ the young German scolded himself. This wasn't the time to get nostalgic or emotional. This was war, and he was expected to have his wits about him at all time.  
But the emotionlessness Prussia had instructed him was vital in wartime was harder than ever to keep up when his soldiers approached him. One of them saluted him before speaking. "Sir," he said in a respectful voice. Germany was hardly used to anything else, but thinking about it, it did feel a bit strange to be spoken to like a superior by men who were –at least looked- older than him. "The Belgian soldiers still putting up a resistance have been captured." The human waited until Germany nodded and softly voiced his, somewhat reluctant, approval of his soldiers' actions. Then the soldier added to his report: "There was a woman amongst them; she too has been taken captive. She… she demanded to see you, sir."  
These words sent Germany's head spinning. _Don't do this to me…_ "Very well," he replied evenly, his expression betraying no emotion. "Bring her to me. Also, she may be our enemy, but you wouldn't hurt a woman, would you? Leave her in one piece. _With dignity._ " He could only imagine what some soldier might want to do to her. Or might have already done. If he ever found something like that had happened to her, he would personally make the humans regret it, whether they were his own people or not. He wouldn't let anyone lay a hand on an innocent woman, child, civilian. They were soldiers, not monsters. At least, that was what they were supposed to be.  
His heart sank when, minutes later, the soldiers came back and dragged the female prisoner along, confirming Germany's suspicions. Belgium struggled against the humans, cursed at them and, when one of them told her to hold her tongue, she spat in his face. The soldier wanted to lash out at her for this, but Germany barked a quick, angry command at him, and he held his temper, begrudgingly staring at his nation.  
Belgium was released in front of Germany, and the young woman stared up at him with unbridled rage. "You monster!" she snapped at him, her green eyes ablaze. "How dare you… how dare you!"  
Germany knew that if her hands hadn't been tied behind her back, she would've punched him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. "Belgium, I'm sorry," he said to her. He knew there were humans with them, but he had no choice but to try and apologise to her for all he'd done. He would've given anything to have avoided getting his innocent cousin involved in the mess he and Austria-Hungary had created. "I never intended to-"  
"Spare me the lies," Belgium interrupted him fiercely. Her eyes turned glassy all of a sudden. "Your people are monsters, inhuman _beasts_ , and you're no better for letting it all happen!" Somehow she managed to finally break the rope that bound her hands together, and she lashed out at Germany to punch him in the face. Her wrists were red with scrapes and blood left by the rope.  
Germany dodged easily, then told all his people to not move a muscle; he could deal with this on his own. He struggled not to show how his heart broke when Belgium stared at him with tears in her eyes and her teeth gritted in rage.  
"I was neutral!" she yelled at her younger cousin. "I was neutral and you… you…!" She pounded her fist down on his chest now, and Germany still remained motionless. "And… and not just my soldiers…" A sob broke from her lips, which she then bit in an attempt to avoid crying now. "Why… why would you do all those things?"  
Which things? Germany stared at his soldiers, a questioning gaze in his eyes. What had been going on here in his absence?  
Belgium answered that question for them as she cried: "They were innocent, Ludwig! Innocent women and children!"  
So they already had done all those horrible things he feared might happen! Rage bubbled up in Germany, and deep regret and the most overpowering sense of guilt he'd ever felt. These were his people Belgium was calling monsters, and if what she said was true, she had all the right to.  
"I always thought," the young woman then choked out, tears dripping down her face, "I-I always believed… that you were a good person… I believed you were pure, innocent, kind…" She was interrupted by another sob, and she hit him again right after as she yelled: "I thought you'd be better than Prussia, but you're _worse!_ "  
…Was this how Prussia felt, when people spoke badly of him? Like a cold blade cut into his heart? Was this what it was like to feel so guilty you could drown in it, yet utterly helpless, unable to do anything about it all? A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him this was unfair, what Belgium was doing, that she had no right to blame him for something he had no influence on. And it wasn't. But wasn't that just the burden of being what he was? Austria-Hungary had decided to punish an entire nation for the actions of one man. A small group of people, honestly, but ultimately it had been one man's actions that had caused all this. Serbia didn't deserve the punishment she got, but she got it anyway.  
Germany had no possibility of preventing this war, there was no way he could stop it, he couldn't even hope to do anything but fight in it and hope to make it through. But because of the things his people did… he deserved every second of this.  
Belgium grabbed Germany by the front of his uniform now, staring him straight in the eyes as she accused him yet again of being a monster. Her eyes overflowed with tears as she did, and seconds later her knees buckled, though she still clung to him as she cried. "All because one man and his wife were killed!" she sobbed, and every syllable broke Germany's heart all over again. But he couldn't show any emotion. He… he couldn't. He shouldn't. "Do you believe Franz Ferdinand would have wanted this?" Belgium cried out, her hands shaking as she still held on to her younger cousin. "Do you honestly believe he's watching from the Heavens and actually _approves_ of all this bloodshed simply for the fact that he got killed?"  
Surely no one would. This wasn't revenge, this was meaningless bloodshed with some guy's assassination used as an excuse, and a poor one at that.  
"Belgium, I'm sorry," he repeated. "If I had known what was happening here, I would've done anything to put a stop to it. I swear, I didn't know. I only got here the day before yesterday." Belgium met his gaze, stifling her sobs as he spoke, and he had a hard time not turning away in shame. "If you would like, you'd be welcome to live in my and Prussia's house in Berlin for the time being."  
He shouldn't have suggested that. Belgium's rage flared up with a vengeance. "What? And you think that would make it all right?!" She jumped to her feet and slapped him in the face. "I would much rather be locked up in prison for the duration of this war than to have anything to do with the both of _you_!"  
It hurt only more to Germany to hear this, but he couldn't say anything against it. In her position he probably wouldn't have felt any differently. He watched silently as Belgium was brought away again, feeling empty and cold after this confrontation. What he would've given to have Prussia here with him now. Once he could move again, he told his men to go do their duties and that he was not to be disturbed.

He went to what was to be his office for the short period that he would be here in Brussels before moving on again, locked the door and sat down at the desk there.  
How long had this war lasted now? It was 20 August. That was… Just 16 days. 16 days of hell.  
How many more were to come?  
How many more times would he be confronted like he was today, accused of evil, and be unable to say anything in denial of those accusations? And all that… all that while his brother was many miles away, far from his reach, unable to give him advice or tell him it would all be okay or step in to help when he didn't know what to do. He would have to do it all on his own, and for the first time ever, he _felt_ as young as he was. All the other times he had missed Prussia, missed him as he used to be before he mentally went downhill, all faded into the background compared to the sheer longing for his big brother he felt now.  
Why had they been separated? How was he supposed to make it on his own out here?  
Even worse… How in the world was Prussia supposed to make it on his own out there? Who could guarantee that separation from the one person in the world giving him a reason to still fight wasn't the last thing needed to fully push him over the edge? Completely on his own now, could Prussia really still cling to what appeared to be the last strands of his sanity?  
It was hard to believe now that this war _wouldn't_ be the end of the world, if only to them.

Prussia had instructed him to shut off his emotions. But surely it wouldn't kill him to tear down his walls when he was alone? Because he couldn't help it right now. He couldn't fight it anymore.  
He cried.

* * *

 **Germany's such a poor baby... I can only imagine the frustration nations must feel when they're against something themselves but it happens and they're powerless to stop it and yet, they get the blame, because they're the nations.**

 **Also, Prussia. Yeah, he's in trouble all right. Königberg was a bit close to the border. A tiny itty-bitty bit easily accessible for the Russian army. The place mentioned, Stallupönen, is pretty darn close to Königsberg. Yup. Trouble.**

 **Anyways, I'm sorry for the dramatic chapter! Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Just in the nick of time...!  
Tomorrow I'm leaving, so I finished this just in time! XD**

 **This chapter will be, I think, the first real good example of what I meant with 'overlap' with Rising &Trouble. Anyone who's read those stories will know what I'm talking about when you read it, no doubt ;)  
So I hope you'll like that bit (even if you haven't read either of those).**

 **I also tried to make this one more lighthearted than the previous chapters have been, though... you might not notice that in the first half!**

 **A huge thanks to all who've read, favourited, followed and reviewed so far!**

* * *

"The Battle of Tannenberg," Prussia snorted as he read the report on the battle that had ended just days ago. What a joke. The battle had been a good 30 kilometres away from where the real 'Battle of Tannenberg' had been fought, which had been the Teutonic Knights' disastrous Battle of Grunwald of 1410. Still, he liked the symbolism, this name having been given to the battle by Hindenburg after a German victory over Russian troops.  
He handed the report back to Hindenburg, who took it from him without even looking up from his own work. The man was a genius, but Prussia hated that he could hardly talk to him. He was simply a talkative person more often than not, and this man did not meet his simple needs of a conversation partner.  
It was because of this that Prussia was surprised when the man looked up from his work and scanned the kingdom with his gaze, asking afterward: "Are you feeling all right, Prussia? You look troubled."  
Prussia huffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, how shall I put it? Oh, that's right! I can feel it when the Russians attack. That, and I've been reading reports on the Western Front, but _no letters_. Can you believe it? Two weeks, and not a single letter from Ludwig!"  
Hindenburg's momentary interest was very short-lived, as he only nodded silently when Prussia started complaining like this, not even looking at him anymore. Prussia gritted his teeth at this and muttered that his chest had been aching for days now, and he was growing tired of it. Now the human did respond. "I thought you were a hardened war machine, something like that? Isn't that more or less how you described yourself to us?" Prussia didn't get the chance to respond. "I'm sure you can handle a sore chest, Prussia, don't whine. Also, the Russians aren't in Königsberg or anywhere near it, so…"  
"Well, they're too close for comfort," Prussia then snapped, interrupting the human, which he did not appear to appreciate. The kingdom didn't care. " _Anywhere_ in East Prussia is too close for comfort. I want them kicked back over the border and chased all the way to Siberia before I'm done 'whining', you got that?"  
"Young man, watch your tongue!"  
Now, Prussia just laughed. "Who are you calling 'young man', _baby_?" he jeered, knowing very well that he would get in trouble for this. He hoped he would. He relished the man's increasing anger. "Compared to me, honestly, you're not even old enough to be considered _that_. Hm, I wonder what you are, then? Tiny little seed? Nah, you're too young even for that." He got up and leant closer to the human, face only inches away from his as he muttered darkly: "That you've got some damn wrinkles doesn't make you older than me, and don't you forget it. Now then, are you ready to show some respect for your elders, _young man_?"  
He saw the slap in the face that followed coming. Completely. It sent his heart pounding in excitement, and he had to work hard to suppress a grin. He couldn't explain it himself, but he loved testing his generals' authority over him; did they have the guts to keep him under control? Would they be able to put a leash on him in the end, or would he have free reign and free will and freedom of thought and freedom of action? Just that one simple question that was asked in any hierarchy, older than civilisation itself: _who's boss?_  
Prussia stepped back, smirking at the general, who was seething with anger. "Well now, really?" he sneered, though his cheek stung badly. "Are you sure you want to end up fighting yours truly? Because, you see, I may be more than ten times your age, my body functions like a young body. Yours… not so much. Your bones will break quicker, you can't handle the blood loss I can… Oh, and also, you lack the immortality."  
How he loved riling the man up like this. After a little while, Hindenburg reached for his pistol, and Prussia shook his head with an unimpressed chuckle. "Ooh, bad choice. Pointing a gun at your own nation, isn't that considered treason?"  
Hindenburg gritted his teeth angrily, every muscle in his body tense. "Not if no one finds out," he replied coldly, cocking the gun.  
"And what makes you so sure they won't? I'll survive, you know I will."  
The answer was a confident one, without any hesitation: "Because you enjoy this too much; you wouldn't let it end for anything." He stood there for a moment longer, clearly wondering whether he should or shouldn't pull the trigger. He opted for the latter after a long hesitation. With a sigh, he put it away again, turning away from Prussia. "I'd probably be doing you a favour if I put a bullet in your arrogant head, you sick bastard. Get out already, if that's what you hoped to achieve with this."  
It wasn't, but that didn't matter. Prussia spun around without another word and casually strolled out of the office. As he went through the hallways, he eventually began humming to himself, catching some soldiers' attention along the way, but he didn't react to their stares. Once outside, he stared at the sky and breathed in the cool September air; summer was slowly starting to end.  
Did his supposed superiors really have what it took to have authority over Prussia? Were they strong-willed enough, resilient, mentally up to the task of keeping him mentally stable?  
Once again…  
Would they be able to keep the broken, twisted mind he knew dwelled inside him under control, when the time came he couldn't fight it anymore himself?

* * *

Late at night, Germany sat in a trench, surrounded by human soldiers. His troops had taken position in the hills near the Aisne river, and were now waiting there for the battle to continue. There had been quite some fighting that morning, the morning of 14 September. British troops had tried to come closer, but had been shot at mercilessly. Germany had taken part in the fighting as well, and though he had seen many horrors in those hours, one moment lay clear in his mind as if it was still happening.  
In all the commotion of battle, blood and gunfire, he'd at one point shot someone in the shoulder –it had gone quite deep, but it wasn't enough to kill. Or so he hoped, at least. Because when, a split second later, an exclamation of pain reached his ears through all the other noise, the voice sent a chill through his blood and made him shiver for a moment. The sound of it forced him to stare at the soldier he'd hit for just a few moments longer, desperately wishing he'd heard it wrong. He knew that voice, vaguely so, but he knew it. When that British soldier, who had fallen after being shot by Germany, now scrambled up again, their eyes met for a moment.  
That instant. It was that moment which was burnt into Germany's mind, a memory he doubted he would ever lose.  
Because when two pairs of pale blue eyes met, those of the British soldier mirrored what lay in Germany's own; a careful flash of recognition, not entirely certain whether the person they were looking at really was who they thought them to be.  
But Germany was pretty sure he'd shot Scotland.  
 _Dear God, what have I done?_ He almost grunted in frustration, but he had to stay composed around here. They could be attacked again at any moment. But he still saw the deep cut in the soldier's shoulder. Whether it had been a human or a nation, it didn't matter for that person of course. But somehow, to himself, it felt even worse if this really had been Scotland. Perhaps because if that was the case, then Scotland would know it had been Germany who had done this to him by now. After all, shouldn't a cut like that have healed after nearly a full day? What would he think of Germany then…?  
Trying to push those thoughts away, the young nation glanced around. Some men had found a spot to write letters to home, most of them boys barely looking any older than Germany did, writing to their parents no doubt, some of them young adults probably writing to their lovers. Most likely their parents, too, though. It seemed wartime made the importance of family all the greater to humans. Men became little boys when mortally wounded and dying. There was no shame in wishing for your mother to be by your side as you lay bleeding and in pain. It was something that basically every soldier did in such a situation.  
For Germany, all of those people were represented by just one. Prussia was his brother, but for the sake of comparing Germany's feelings to those of the human soldiers around him, the kingdom was also the equivalent of his father, his mother, anyone that he might wish were here with him right now. _Maybe I should write to him as well…_  
He made that decision in a heartbeat, borrowed paper and ink and a pen from another soldier just minutes later, and started writing.

 _14 September 1914_

 _Dear brother,_

 _First of all, I feel I should apologise for not having written to you before. If you have written to me, I have not received your letter yet.  
I am currently in a trench near the river Aisne. Do you know it? We spent most of yesterday securing a safe, easily defendable position here, and I believe we found a spot better than any enemy troops have. Yesterday evening and all through the night, we were surrounded by a thick fog, but when it cleared at the break of dawn, we were attacked by British forces. We fought well, and though we're not without losses, we won this battle. But it's not over yet; we're holed up here, waiting for the enemy to attack or for an opening for us to attack them.  
There was a brief moment this morning, during the fight, that I cannot seem to get out of my head. Amongst the numerous enemy soldiers I've shot today, I believe I saw Scotland. He wasn't mortally wounded, not if the wound gets proper disinfection and any other necessary treatment, but I feel almost as bad about this as I do about the two human I've killed.  
Is it normal to feel worse about hurting fellow nations than about hurting humans? Or am I just overreacting?  
Last month, when we captured Brussels, I was confronted by Belgium. That, too, hurt a lot. She was neutral and she was innocent. Scotland is fighting here only because we started a war and violated another nation's neutrality; he and the rest of the UK are merely defending their allies, just as we are. But their allies didn't start this mess. We're hurting innocent nations and innocent people… I see now that it is easier said than done to stay level-headed and emotionless over all this. But I'm still trying._

 _Please write to me about how you're doing on the Eastern Front. I've read the reports, of course, but I want to hear it from you instead. Please don't be angry that this is the first letter you've got from me; I had a lot on my mind the past month, and I'm sure you did, too._

 _Dein Ludwig_

* * *

Prussia sighed as he sat in his home in Königsberg. The German Eighth Army had completely destroyed the Russian Second Army and had severely beaten up the First. There wasn't a Russian soldier still within German borders who wasn't imprisoned yet. It was a very successful victory, a conclusion to a month of battle that Prussia was proud of. Russia wasn't out of the war yet, his armies were fighting Austria-Hungary, but Prussia doubted he would have to fight any Russian soldiers anytime soon.  
Right now he was off duty. That is, he wasn't fighting, though still working on other things yet again while the General Staff discussed what to do with him next. He hoped he would be sent to the First Army now, so that he would be fighting beside Germany again, but for some reason he doubted it. He didn't think the General Staff would allow him to go, for whatever reason.  
At least he had finally received a letter from his little brother. He wondered if it could be true, that Germany had encountered Scotland in battle, but it probably was. In previous wars, he knew from experience that the United Kingdom, consisting of four nations, usually sent two nations out to the front while the other two either stayed behind to do work like Prussia was now doing, or if there were two fronts their armies were fighting on, the other two would fight on that one. They hardly ever sent just one of the four siblings out to war. Going by what he knew of the family, Wales disliked fighting and warfare wasn't exactly his expertise compared to the others, and tension between Ireland and his younger siblings in Great Britain had only been rising in the past years. They wouldn't trust him with all this. So it was safe to say that it was most likely Scotland and England were fighting on the Western Front together.  
Prussia could understand very well that it must feel horrible to hurt another nation. Of course, for the attacker, it wasn't physically any different from attacking a human. For the attacked nation, though, it meant feeling what it must be like to be mortal. It wasn't a nice feeling. So, mentally speaking, for the attacker it was a burden heavier than hurting a human, knowing that if it had been anyone else hurting that nation, it wouldn't have affected them as much. Knowing that if _you_ hadn't done it, they wouldn't be in so much trouble.  
Then again, if it was your intention to hurt them, it felt so darn good. He remembered many instances where he'd specifically sought out his immortal enemies, just so that he could let them know exactly what he thought of them. Hurting others accidentally or hurting them too badly, well, that wasn't as nice.  
"So all in all," he said out loud, half to himself but mostly in response to Germany's letter, even though his little brother was in France right now, "your reaction was completely normal, don't worry." …He would write that down later.  
For now, he just hoped he could go to the West again and join his little brother. Here in the East he had been astoundingly successful, but in the West, things were slowing down and their plans seemed to be failing. He wanted to help out there, and though he knew he couldn't make much of a difference as a soldier, he might be able to make all the difference as a brother. Not just that, he needed Germany as much as Germany needed him. They hadn't been apart for this long since the empire had been but a baby. He wanted to be with Germany so bad. He just wanted to see him, to hold him, talk to him, assure him they would still be fine no matter what.  
Maybe that was all he needed? To be able to look after him… Maybe he didn't need Germany to look after him, too. Maybe it would be okay if he was just near his little brother now. Maybe that could help him keep himself under control.  
For now, he just grabbed paper and a pen, writing a response to his little brother's letter.

 _25 September 1914_

 _Don't worry, little bro. I was busy too, so I didn't get a chance to write, either. I'm sure you've had word of our glorious success against the Russians here in the East. I'm off duty now. That is, I'm not fighting anywhere. I'm in my house in Königsberg at the moment, working on strategies and reports and awaiting new orders. I've requested to be sent your way, but I wouldn't count on it. I think they're keeping us apart so that you'll learn to take care of yourself. I don't approve; this isn't the way to go about it, not in a situation like this. But I cannot change their minds about it, I'm sorry.  
I am glad to be here, though. I've missed Königsberg. Still, I'd rather be with you.  
Please, also don't worry yourself over what you told me about Scotland. Fellow nations, in some way, are kin. Our own people are closest to our hearts aside from actual relatives, but aside from our own population, other immortals are simply closest to us. When we feel alone, another nation soon feels like family or something of the likes. It happens. After all, they're the only ones who we get to know for centuries. Hundreds of years from now, maybe you and Scotland will talk about that moment, or you and Belgium will discuss what happened when she confronted you… That's something we could never do with humans. Nations are, whether we like them or not, something special to us._

This was maybe better to tell Germany than it was to tell him Prussia's earlier explanation for his guilt. Maybe this hurt less. It probably was better to leave out the guilt-inducing story of how he had likely condemned Scotland to a slow and painful recovery of what sounded like it could be a pretty bad wound.

 _I've done things a million times worse, Ludwig, and I have been forgiven. I know Austria doesn't like me and that I don't like Austria, but you've never seen how much we hated one another just decades ago. He has forgiven me for many things. I once even landed him in a wheelchair, and let me tell you, back in the day those things were even worse than they are now. Very hard to move around in, so I made his life very difficult. In return I have forgiven him for some very painful things he's done to me. Though truth be told, he had far less to be forgiven for.  
What I'm saying is, Ludwig, no one can hold any of this against you forever. I know I'm not liked much by the world, but the worst thing I've done in my life is something they don't even know of, only me, Austria and Hungary. Maybe one day I'll share it with you, but for now I hope you'll understand when I say I'd rather keep it this way for a little while longer._

 _I will try to see you again before the year ends. That has to be possible. All right?  
Hang in there, little brother. You're doing great. I'm proud of you._

 _Dein Bruder_

* * *

It took a while, but in the end, Prussia managed to keep his promise.  
By then, in December 1914, the war was reaching a stalemate. Snow was falling, covering the world around Germany in a thick layer of white. Almost enough to hide the scars left on the earth by battling soldiers. It was cold, very cold, the only thing about winter that felt like it fit right now. So many months had passed since Prussia had told him he would try to join him here in the West, he was beginning to lose hope that he would make it before the end of the year like he said he would.  
But then, one afternoon, when Germany's troops hadn't been caught up in a fight for a little while now, he got a pleasant surprise that chased away the cold in a heartbeat.

"Ludwig!"  
Germany looked up from what he was doing, eyes wide. It couldn't be…  
Prussia stood at a little distance, grinning wide. His shoulders were white with snowflakes. They probably stuck to his hair, too, but Germany couldn't tell. It was still funny to see how well Prussia blended in with his snowy surroundings. If he wore an all-white outfit, he would be great at stealth in the snow no doubt. Not that he was completely white, though, so maybe it wouldn't work out as well as Germany had jokingly described to his older brother some years ago.  
Why was that the first thing he thought about? Sometimes he still couldn't understand his own mind. But then, did he have to? He didn't bother to think about that any longer, because Prussia then came running his way. He caught the attention of several soldiers as he ran past them, but not even with so many eyes on the two of them, Germany for once did not hesitate to accept the tackle-hug he got and return the warm embrace immediately.  
"Ludwig, thank God, I've missed you!" Prussia choked out, somewhere between crying and laughing or maybe both at the same time. Germany was too choked up to even answer. After a few long seconds, Prussia stepped away from his little brother, though he still held him as he looked him up and down, carefully inspecting him. "My, it looks like someone's been working out!" he then chuckled approvingly, poking Germany in the chest –which was as packed with muscle as the rest of his body now was. He'd been muscular before the war started, but back then he'd still been on par with Prussia. He _looked_ stronger now, though whether he really was, he couldn't be sure. Prussia generally surprised people with how much stronger he was than he looked. It was due to frequent malnourishment in his youth that Prussia wasn't as muscular as he could have been, and it was also to be expected that, someday, Germany would be taller than him. Right now he was almost as tall as his older brother, just a few centimetres distance still left between them.  
Prussia hugged him a second time before the two finally let go of each other, and by then Germany had found his voice back. "I thought you wouldn't make it," he said in a hushed voice; not everyone had to listen along to this conversation. "Why didn't you write to me that you were coming?"  
Prussia grinned. "Because what would be fun about that? Spoiling the surprise is so unawesome." His gaze grew softer then, and Germany was happy to see his brother was doing well. Seemed to be doing well anyway. "But how have you been, Ludwig? You look well."  
Germany just nodded. "Doing well enough. I'm still not happy about this war and I won't ever be, but…" He trailed off, trying to find the right words for it. "You were right after all; you do get used to it after some time. The pain is something you just learn to live with eventually." He paused, thought, then sighed. "Well, except the teargas and such; they're getting annoying. 'Irritants' is an accurate name for them, all right."  
At the mention of these poisonous gasses, a light sparked in Prussia's red eyes, and he leant a little closer to Germany, telling him in an excited whisper: "We're busy developing even stronger irritants back home!" He seemed very positive-minded about it, and Germany listened intently to the explanation. "Just for payback, of course, after those pesky Frenchies used teargas and all that. There has been some debate over what to use, considering the Hague Conference…" Prussia chuckled then. He looked like an excited child over all this. "I of course suggested _Blausäure._ You remember that one?"  
Prussic acid. That was so like him. Germany almost smiled at the thought of Prussia promoting an acid named after him. The kingdom already went on. "After all, it's made with one of my favourite colours!" he said jokingly, tugging at his Prussian blue uniform with a wide grin. He was basically the only one who still wore that colour –everyone else had a greyish-green uniform now. Prussia then shrugged. "Ah, but they're now planning to choose chlorine instead. So unawesome! I mean, even if you say that boring name _hydrogen cyanide,_ Prussic acid sounds a lot more awesome and it's also very effective! Whatever…"  
Germany just smiled, though he was wondering how this was going to go. Both hydrogen cyanide and chlorine were lethal gasses if used in a high enough dosage. Hopefully they would use it as they were supposed to be used –just as irritants. They were already violating the laws. But then, the French army had been the first to do so, so surely that made it somewhat all right? If they fought dirty, the Germans would have to fight dirtier to win. That was just how it was... Right?  
 _I won't feel bad about this. I won't. It's not my decision and it's not my fault.  
_ After all, if he wallowed in guilt over everything that happened in this war, what would become of him? He'd begun to see that it wasn't sufficient to shut down one's emotions just in battle. It was a necessity in everyday life during wartime, if one was to stay sane through all this. And so he would, he would shut down all his emotions as much as he could. It was the only thing he could do.

* * *

"Von Falkenhayn said we can't win anymore," Germany said one early afternoon as he and Prussia were sitting together somewhere in the middle of their camp, eating dry crackers for lunch as they were now used to doing. They were both looking forward to dinner that night, though; for just once, if the day went without any nasty surprises like an unplanned battle, all soldiers in this corps would have dinner together tonight, and it would be a bit more elaborate than usual as well. It was Christmas Eve, after all. Even on the battlefield, they couldn't ignore that.  
Right now, though, it wasn't Christmas Eve yet. So right now, they could talk about the progress of the war.  
Prussia grinned reassuringly at his little brother. "Well, we've worked miracles before," he reminded the worried empire. "Seven Years' War, I thought I was a goner. Everyone did, really, but not only did I survive, I also won the war! I won't deny that, the rate this is going, it's going to be hard, but…" He trailed off for a moment, sighed, then stared up at the milky grey-and-white sky. "Don't you ever say it's impossible, you hear me? Don't even think that. Until we've lost, we still have a chance."  
Germany didn't respond for a moment, but then he sighed and smiled. Prussia was probably right. They had already suffered heavy losses, but so had their enemies. France and the UK probably didn't have it any easier than they did. Maybe they could turn things around yet. "Do you think Italy might still join us?" Germany asked almost hopefully. He didn't know whether or not Italy's army was strong, but anything might be enough to make a difference.  
Prussia, however, laughed hollowly. "Not a chance. Damn cowards, backing out of the alliance when a real fight breaks out. Oh well… We can manage just fine like this." Then he smiled, more genuinely so, and added more softly: "And if we do get support from anywhere, I won't complain. But so long as you have me, Ludwig, and so long as I have you, we'll be fine. All we need is each other."  
Suddenly there was a call of alarm in the camp. "British troops spotted close by and approaching our location!"  
Prussia's heart skipped a beat at this. An attack, right now? They had thought their enemies wouldn't want to fight during the holidays, just like them. Yet here they were now. Instinctively, Prussia jumped to his feet and was about to yell a command at the soldiers to prepare for battle, but just before he could even open his mouth, Germany was already doing exactly that. Frozen for a moment, Prussia stared as he gave the men clear, confident commands, and despite the situation, his heart swelled with pride for just a second. Then he too went to grab a rifle.  
Barely two minutes later, Prussia stood beside Germany again, their soldiers still rushing around them to prepare for the attack.  
But it was too late. Over the top of the slope some British soldiers appeared, followed closely by more and yet more of them. Prussia stiffened, his muscles already prepared for the fight. Beside him, Germany gasped softly, and when the albino followed his gaze, he saw why: leading the British troops was Scotland, who stared at the panicking German soldiers in astonishment.  
Then, suddenly, he began laughing.  
Prussia couldn't breathe as the Scot held up his arms, showing that he wasn't carrying any weapons and clearly indicating that he had no intention to fight. But then… what else was he here for? The old nation soon answered that unspoken question as he called to them, voice still shaky with laughter: "Oi! Wouldn't be fair to attack men who don't have arms with them, now would it? We're not here to fight, you know!"  
Sensing Germany's confusion as if it were coming off him in waves, Prussia stepped forward, looking straight at Scotland. "Then what are you here for?" he demanded in his younger brother's stead; if even he was confused, he could only imagine how Germany felt. It didn't surprise him that the young empire wasn't sure what to do right now.  
In response to his question, one of the British soldiers threw something into the German camp. Feeling a jolt of fear, Prussia stared at the object, expecting a bomb or maybe a shell with poison gas –after all, those would kill many, if not all of the German soldiers here, so the Brits 'wouldn't have to fight', as Scotland had said. But a split second later he saw that is was instead a football, and he relaxed again. Scotland explained immediately: "Surely you don't want to fight with Christmas? We're just here for a nice, _peaceful_ round of football, that's all."  
Before either Prussia or Germany could respond, one of their own soldiers called to the enemy troops, sounding excited. "We'll beat you in a second!" he declared in a thick German accent. All around him, Prussia could hear chuckles and soft mumbles of approval.  
Then, from up the slope, someone called back in what Prussia recognised as an Irish accent: "We'll see about that, Krautz!"  
Prussia and Germany stared at each other for a moment, silent and wordlessly discussing what to do, it seemed. Then a light appeared in Germany's eyes, and Prussia's heart warmed at seeing that careful, excited twinkle. Germany had grown up significantly, all right, but he still possessed a child's enthusiasm. It looked to Prussia as if his little brother was silently asking for his approval, and Prussia only nodded, smiling when Germany looked back up at Scotland calmly.  
The young empire's voice was clear as it rang through the clearing in which the corps had made their camp, and he spoke in near impeccable English, which came as another surprise to Prussia. Most of all, though, the Prussian enjoyed the warmth and gratitude in his little brother's voice as Germany suggested to the British troops: "How about you join us for dinner while you're at it?"  
As the British soldiers calmly and peacefully made their way into the clearing, mingling with the German soldiers and a few careful but friendly conversations started between the two enemy armies, Prussia glanced at Germany yet again. _You see, Ludwig?_ he wanted to tell him.  
 _Nothing is impossible._

* * *

 **So that's it for at least two weeks... I won't be back until Saturday night, really, and the week after I'll be really busy as well, so I don't know when I'll have time to write again.**

 **Oh well, next chapter's going to pick up where this one left off, and at least I've got that scene worked out already XD I just need to convert it to Prussia and Germany's PoVs. I also have some ideas on what to write in the rest of the next chapter, so who knows? Maybe I will be quicker than expected. Just don't count on it... Sorry about that.**

 **Anyway, since I'll be in Rome, maybe I will also get some inspiration for a Roman Empire one-shot or... anything, really. Don't know until I get there, right?**

 **Thanks all for reading, anyway, and I hope you liked it! So yeah... please be a bit more patient than usual for the next one ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I know this could be expected, but still, this chapter came later than I wanted it to be.**

 **Anyway, at least I had a great time in Rome! No real inspiration for my fics, though. Mostly just been torturing my poor feet, which aren't used to walking from dawn 'til dusk. Well, they are now. It's fascinating how one just gets used to the pain after a little while and keeps walking... (which, I just realised, is a little fact that I might be able to use in my writing sometime, who knows)**

 **Thanks to everyone who favourited, followed and/or reviewed! It's always great to hear from my readers ;) You're all awesome!**

 **I hope you'll like this chapter, and thanks all for the patience!**

* * *

Prussia was still surprised when he saw his own troops mingle with the British for a Christmas celebration together. He hadn't expected this at all. Beside him, Germany was staring wide-eyed at the soldiers, too confused to say a word it seemed. As the humans prepared a makeshift football field, Prussia glanced over at Scotland, who had orchestrated all this; the older nation looked approvingly at the human soldiers as they let go of their animosity for one another. Were they even truly enemies in the first place? After all, how could men who had never met before be enemies, just because their countries were at war with each other?  
Scotland then sat down in the snow at a little distance from all the others, watching. Prussia had half a mind to join him there; they had gotten along well in the past. Maybe they could rekindle that sense of amity between them. But for now he felt he had to stay beside his little brother, until he settled down more.  
Soon enough the two armies were playing a game of football. The sight warmed Prussia like he was sitting by a fire, a nice mug of coffee or something else warm and just reading a book. Eventually, after he'd watched a few minutes of the game, he leant closer to his little brother and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you go as well, Ludwig?" he suggested carefully. "Should be fun."  
To his disappointment, though not surprise, Germany shook his head. He looked uncomfortable with the idea of being seen… well, playing. "I don't want to, brother," he sighed. "That's all."  
 _But you do want to._ Prussia decided to let these words be left unspoken. Germany probably just needed an example, and besides, Prussia himself could use some time off from this war as well. Looking forward to it already, he laughed and gave his brother a firm pat on the back. "Well, if you don't go, I will!" Then he dashed off to the edge of the playing field, calling to the British soldiers: "Hey, Tea-Suckers! Next round, the Awesome Me is joining in, so look forward to getting your butts kicked!"  
Some of the soldiers chuckled at this, and the Prussian got a few quick thumbs up to show that they were okay with it. Minutes later, as he'd joined the game, he glanced at Germany a few times, wondering if his tactic was working yet. He was proud of his little brother being such a great, reliable leader to the soldiers of his corps, but he wanted him to for once just act his age again, too.  
Germany had by now sat down on the snow like Scotland had, watching quietly. But as time passed, he got just a tiny bit fidgety. _Yes!_ Now that was what he wanted to see. Clearly Germany didn't want to have to be the straight-laced, serious soldier he had to be in battle, not now. _No worries, little bro,_ Prussia said to him in silence, smiling a bit and keeping an eye on him as he finished up this game of football. Then by the end of it, he said a quick goodbye to the human soldiers, thanked them for the game, then ran back to Germany. He feigned exhaustion, though not all of it was fake; he hadn't been sleeping well for some time, and Germany knew of it. Hopefully he believed Prussia now, because that would make this all so much easier. "The Awesome Me's done!" he choked out, laughing a bit as he reached Germany's side. "Go take over for me, little bro, and be awesome!"  
Germany hesitated for just a moment, staring Prussia straight in the eyes, but then that childlike excitement he still possessed at this age took over and he got to his feet with a quick nod. Without a word, he went to the playing field instead, where the two armies were making teams for the new game.  
Prussia watched until the game began, then sighed, breathing out a white puff of air. Then he turned to look at Scotland, still sitting on his own a little way off, and he walked over to him instead. Scotland was watching the soldiers play their game with a warm smile as well, and he only seemed to notice Prussia when the albino flopped down onto his back in the snow beside him and stared up at him with shining red eyes. "Well, this sure was a Christmas present, Scottie!" he chuckled warmly, smiling when Scotland looked down at him with an amused gaze. "How did you come up with the idea?"  
Scotland laughed then, too, and shrugged. "Nah, it was my men, not me," he confessed softly, turning back to watch the game. "I don't like football that much, so I would've never come up with it myself." His smile got a bit wider, his pale blue eyes filled with warmth. "They all seem to be enjoying themselves, though."  
Prussia snickered a bit. "They sure do!" He then glanced over at Scotland and quickly inspected him a bit. Germany had said he'd shot the man, but Prussia couldn't find any trace of that injury on him now, not in the way he sat, not in the way he moved; he didn't show any pain or difficulty moving, at least. He also didn't seem to resent Germany for it as he looked at the young nation from a distance, so if Germany had even been right in the first place, Scotland didn't seem to hold it against him anymore now. The Prussian then shook his head and decided not to think about any of that. Instead, he sighed. "You know, I came here specially for Ludwig, so that he wouldn't be alone on the battlefield with Christmas. He's just a kid, after all, and I didn't want his first holidays during wartime to be without his awesome brother." His smile faded quickly when he realised what he'd said, and he gazed up at Scotland again. He could think of only one reason why Scotland would be here, and why he was here alone at that. "You don't have your brothers here today, do you?" he asked softly. Scotland only shook his head silently, and Prussia sat up. "Must be shit."  
The Scot only sighed and gave a short nod, which made Prussia feel bad for him. Being separated from one's family was one of the worst things in the world. In an attempt to cheer him up, he put one arm around him, grinning wide. "No matter!" he assured him with as much joy as he could manage in his voice. "You've got me today! We can hold an awesome drinking contest, and I'll give you some real German beer!"  
Scotland grinned now, too, snickering a bit and agreeing to having that contest, stating that he was confident he would win –very few people could hold their liquor better than a true Scotsman, after all. Then he fumbled in his pocket and then held out a cigarette to Prussia. "There you go, laddie," he said jokingly, still chuckling as Prussia excitedly took the cigarette and the lighter the Scot offered him right after. "If you're giving me one of my addictions, I should do the same for you, eh? I see you still enjoy them."  
"Sure do," Prussia mumbled back through gritted teeth as he lit the cigarette. He paused for a moment to take that lovely first breath, then went on: "It's as you told me all those years ago, really. They numb the mind, and I… I could use that in wartime, especially being separated from Ludwig most of the time." It had been Scotland who had introduced him to the sweet poison that was smoking. Thankfully it held little to no consequences for a nation, whereas for humans it was undoubtedly unhealthy, Prussia could tell that much from how his own body reacted to the smoke he inhaled.

Minutes later, when Scotland had lit a cigarette of his own as well and the two kingdoms sat there in the snow together, getting a bit cold by now of course, Germany came to join them. He seemed a bit confused over seeing his brother with another nation like that, but his happiness over this break from the war overpowered it by far. "So, polluting the air together?" he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice as he walked their way. Prussia's heart swelled with joy as he heard his little brother's voice free of worry for the first time in months. Scotland shrugged and said that their 'poison' was by far not the worst that had been spread in the air lately, so it was okay. Germany's gaze darkened only a little bit at this obvious reference to the poison gasses, but he didn't mention it. Instead he queried curiously: "So since when are the two of you all buddy-buddy together?"  
"Actually, we go way back," Scotland answered for the both of them, and Prussia was surprised at this. He had always assumed that his sort of 'friendship' with Scotland in earlier centuries had been one-sided, that the Scot more than just tolerated him but that it would be an exaggeration to say he liked the Prussian in any way. He had always been kind and friendly to the younger kingdom, but he seemed to be like that with everyone unless he had a good reason to dislike them, so he never thought much of it. Scotland then gave the Prussian a friendly nudge. "You see, laddie, we worked together quite a bit as allies in the Seven Years' War. It's back then that I taught your brother English –did you know that was me?"  
Germany allowed a short snicker now, and a tiny smirk as he glanced at his brother with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "If he hadn't told me, I could've figured it out by his weird German-Scottish hybrid accent, yes."  
Scotland nodded, laughing softly. "Yeah, it does sound weird, doesn't it?" Prussia, though he was amused as well and took the joke well, thought it unfit not to comment on this, but both Scotland and Germany ignored him for a moment as the old kingdom went on again: "I also taught him to smoke, which… I'm sorry, kid. It's my fault."  
"He was basically the only mental support I had in that war," Prussia added, still grateful for that fact. "Aside from Old Fritz, of course. But Scotland was there for me after Kunersdorf, for one, and other battles." He looked to his side, his gaze meeting the old nation's. "I guess you could say we're, sort of… friends."  
"Sort of?" Scotland snorted before getting up from the cold and wet ground. "Whatever floats your boat, laddie." He held out his hand for Prussia to get up as well, but the albino defiantly jumped to his feet without sparing him a glance, though he gave him a friendly shove right after. Then he suggested that the three would go inside somewhere and start that drinking contest, to which Scotland was only too glad to agree and Germany immediately stated that he would join them.  
Prussia just wished that day, that careless time, could last a century.

* * *

Of course, the hours were just that: hours. Too soon, the war resumed to remind them that it had never even stopped yet. It had reached a real stalemate now, and the German army tried to preserve that stalemate. But as Prussia had told Germany, they were also working on stronger chemical weapons, which in turn was hardly a 'preserving the status quo' of this war. The first time they used Chlorine was on 2 January 1915, and soon after Germany got a report from Major Von Zingler, who stated that the gas was a 'horrible weapon'. It had killed 140 British soldiers, he'd written. Uncomfortable with this, the young nation soon put that report away and never looked at it again.  
Prussia too, now that battle had resumed on the Eastern Front, where the German army had decided to place most of their energy so that they would get rid of Russia, made use of gasses now. He'd been there personally when they had tried to launch a large-scale chemical attack on Russian troops, but the attack failed when the gas froze in the harsh cold.  
In February that year, Prussia's Eighth Army, together with the Tenth Army, fought the Russians at the Masurian Lakes, in which they all but obliterated the two Russian armies they fought against. They had barely suffered any losses themselves in comparison. Germany had received a long and detailed report about it from Prussia, who was excited and proud over this victory. It was almost embarrassing that Germany had to write back that they were hardly making progress at all over in the West, though that wasn't their main goal in the first place.  
Germany didn't get to see what poison gas was like for himself until May, though he had felt it long before; it stung in his lungs, he often got into sudden and rather bad coughing fits and he had trouble breathing sometimes. All signs that his army wasn't the only one using these chemical weapons. He'd imagined it was bad, of course, but until he saw it used in the last days of the Second Battle of Ypres, he found he had severely underestimated its horror. It killed, and it killed many, German and Allied soldiers. It killed horribly.  
Germany, safe with a gasmask on, could only watch as human soldiers choked to death on the poison they inhaled, blood still bubbling at their lips as they drew their last breaths on the cold ground, their skin raw with chemical burns and their eyes left as nearly unrecognisable, hazy orbs. He feared that Scotland was there, or France. He even feared that Belgium was there that day, even though he knew that she was locked up somewhere as a prisoner of war.  
After this, he requested again and again that he'd be given a time out from the battles, though he never told anyone why he did so; he would not admit that he was too horrified by his own army's actions to stay there any longer. In June, he finally got that permission, and instead worked on the General Staff for a month, to be expected back at the Western Front halfway through July.

That month had done him more good than he had imagined it would. By the end of July, Germany set out with a portion of his troops to make another gas attack on British troops, meant to chase them away rather than kill them. Still, Germany knew as well as any man did that there were going to be many casualties again today. But this time, he managed very well to do as Prussia had told him nearly a year ago and shut down his emotions. He was just doing his job, he was just following orders. He had no reason to feel guilty; the ones who had given him this command had to. Not him.  
With his gasmask on his face again, Germany and his troops sought a place upwind from where they knew the British were, so that the gas would be carried their way on the breeze. Once they had found such a spot, they set down their shells with Chlorine, waited for the right moment when the wind was strong enough to carry most of the gas away from them, hoping to avoid as many casualties in their own ranks as they could, then opened the shells and retreated immediately, out of its reach. They would return here later to count the casualties and perhaps find some unlucky survivors –whom they would then put out of their misery, for Germany could not imagine anyone wanting to live with the aftermath of exposure to a poison as potent as Chlorine.  
Not all of his soldiers seemed comfortable with this, though, and neither was he if he allowed feelings to slip into his consciousness for longer than a second. "Sir," one young soldier asked him with terror in his eyes, "we're not fighting them, they're not fighting us… so why are we doing this?"  
"I know they're our enemies, but…" someone else added, agreeing with his fellow soldier. "Can't we just… leave them be?"  
Germany was quiet for a moment, looking them in the eyes then glancing over his shoulder, where he knew that, a few miles away, a massacre was now taking place without there being any soldiers fighting one another. Then he sighed. "I don't know," he confessed, in as flat a voice as he could manage. "Maybe there's a good reason for this, maybe there isn't. Whatever the case, it is not up to us to question our leaders' decisions. It is a soldier's duty to follow orders and not ask questions. I am here to do exactly that, and for your sakes, it would be better if you did, too. Try to keep some peace of mind, impossible as that might seem. It's the only way we can do this without… without going insane." He then looked at all of the other soldiers, some of which looked doubtful as well. "That goes for all of you. We're merely the tools used by our leaders to perform this act; we do not bear responsibility. You all got that?"  
Some of the soldiers, to his dismay, seemed to have no trouble at all setting aside their guilt, if they even felt any in the first place. He questioned their humanity for a moment, but decided it was best not to think about this, either. Others, like him at first, struggled to let go of the knowledge that right now, people were dying because of what they'd done. But they tried, and that was the most important part. He was proud of them for it, knowing full well that it was difficult not to drown in guilt. He still struggled every day to keep his head above the churning black waters of regret and guilt, after all, and keep breathing despite how hard the currents tugged at him and nearly forced him under. He could not and he would not give in to it. Just as his brother had told him to. Just as what he now knew was a soldier's duty.

Germany used a telegram to make a brief report of what had happened so far and that things went according to plan up to this point, then prepared to go into the area they had attacked together with a couple of the soldiers present –as many as they had gasmasks for. He dreaded the first few corpses he found, but only the first. After that they were just part of his job. Unpleasant presence, but no nuisance.  
The few people still living, those were more difficult to come across. After all, they were dying all right, just moments away from death in most cases, nothing that could be done to save them. It was when he saw them gasping for the breath they would never draw in again that Germany allowed himself to feel a little of the guilt, just a little, without letting it envelop him. Just enough to remind himself that he was no inhumane, cruel monster, but just a soldier doing his job. It was that day that the young nation realised just how well he had learnt to control his emotions, though he felt no pride over this newfound ability. He felt no disdain for it either, just a quiet acceptance and acknowledgment of its usefulness in times like these. Prussia was the one who had instructed him and had done so well, but he had taught himself. He had learnt well.  
It was that day that the young nation also learnt that some emotions were too strong to ever hope to control.

* * *

Some time had passed since Germany and his troops had entered what had become a field of corpses, a field that here and there stretched out into the nearby woods, when he stood still for a moment, looking around. It had been their leaders' plans, for whatever reason, to catch this platoon unawares, and it looked like they had succeeded. It also looked like they had killed every man in it. _Is this what you wanted?_ he asked his General Staff in silence, looking at all the corpses around him. _But why? I won't voice my questions, I know I shouldn't, but will you answer them nonetheless? You would see this as a victory, but so far I've only seen a meaningless massacre. If there was any reason for this at all… tell me.  
_ A gunshot somewhere to his left, up a slope in the edge of the forest, alerted him, and he looked up from his pondering. Two of his soldiers had found another unlucky soul who was still alive. Double unlucky, Germany now saw; judging by how close his own two men were to one such barrier, this poor Briton had come across a barrier with barbed wire, a common sight around trenches and any military camps. How the unfortunate man had survived both the gas and the wire, he had no idea. But his subconscious seemed to have one, because he nearly jumped when he saw the human soldiers fire at the man on the ground again. Wasn't he dead yet?  
 _It can't be…_ Germany's feet brought him to them before his mind could even process anything. With every step he got closer his feet moved quicker, until he crossed the last metres in a single heartbeat. He came to a sudden halt, staring at the soldier who should be dead now, after poison gas, barbed wire and two bullets going through his body… yet still lived.  
The wire had cut the man all over and he was bleeding profoundly from myriad wounds, some small and shallow, others long and deep. His right cheek had been torn open by one such razor sharp barb, and the blood that poured from that deep gash mingled on the forest floor with the blood that dripped from his lips, where the thick red liquid still bubbled.  
It _bubbled_.  
He was breathing.  
Of course, standing over the man now, though it was difficult due to the many injuries, Germany recognised his bright auburn hair, which he knew now would be a fiery red when it caught sunlight, the white skin which only last winter had rivalled Prussia's in paleness… Of course he knew that no bullet fired by a human and no barbed wire could ever kill Scotland.  
Still it astounded him that the old nation had lived through this so far, considering Germany himself had planted some of the shells containing the poison that had stricken the old kingdom down.  
Germany stood motionless, breathless, his heart pounding so hard it hurt and his blood rushing through his veins so loudly that he could hear it as it pulsed through his ears. He scarcely registered it when one of his soldiers sighed something about this poor bugger being a stubborn one and raised his rifle once more. In a rush of fear that the other nation might still die, some foolish belief that, in this state, it would be enough for even a human to lay so much as a finger on him for him to be killed, he threw himself in front of the weapon. He knew from personal experience that if he shouted a command to leave the injured nation alone now, it might startle the soldier enough to have him still pull the trigger. This, though the most painful one, was no doubt the safest solution for Scotland.  
"Sir!" the soldiers exclaimed simultaneously. "Sir, why did you-?"  
Germany didn't give them the chance to talk any longer than that, when the gunshot forced him onto his knees (he'd never been shot in the stomach before, and it hurt terribly) but he still instantly turned around to Scotland. Carefully, he shook him, dreading knowing that he wouldn't react. But some foolish hope still forced him to try. "Scotland," he tried feebly. "Scotland, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I didn't know you were- _please, don't die!_ "  
"S-Scotland?" one of the men behind him stammered. "My God… That explains why he wouldn't die…"  
"So now what?" the other one snapped, though Germany could tell he sounded agitated like this only because he was scared. "We just attempted to kill Scotland, of all people! A-and I just… I just shot Germany, too…"  
Gritting his teeth, Germany got to his feet again, clenching the wound in his stomach tightly to prevent himself from bleeding too much until it healed. He was beginning to feel shaky. "Now," he answered hoarsely, "nothing happens. Not to you, I promise you. You couldn't have known it was him, and I'm the one who acted so rash. None of this is your fault." Somehow he managed to act calm, though to _be_ calm was a mission impossible. "As for Scotland… We'll bring him to a nearby village," he decided in a split second. "They will know what to do with him. They will recognise from his uniform, if not his appearance, that he's a British soldier, and even a blind person could see he needs help. We'll take responsibility for what happened today, but 'taking responsibility' doesn't necessarily mean paying for our mistakes. All right?"  
The two soldiers, terrified, exchanged a silent glance, then looked back at Germany and nodded. The nation sighed in relief, having now found what seemed like a good solution to this mess he had unwillingly and unknowingly created. But that motion hurt more than he thought it would, tiny as it was, and he grunted. Immediately the two soldiers told him to sit down somewhere, take it easy until that wound was doing better again. For once he did not mind taking such an order; he could feel himself that it was a necessity. But when he glanced back down at Scotland, he couldn't bear leave him on the ground like that. He had already hurt him once before in this war, and so far Scotland had only been kind to him whenever they'd met. He didn't deserve any of this. So the young empire sat down beside him, carefully unhooked the last barbed wire from his legs, which were still tangled a bit, and pulled him very carefully and gently out of there. And then he just sat there, by his side, until more of his soldiers joined them and they could help move Scotland away from there and to a village, by which time Germany's own injury, much to his guilt and dismay towards the old kingdom, had mostly healed again.

* * *

Just weeks later, both Germany and Prussia were called to Berlin to discuss the Scotland incident. Germany had written a letter about it to Prussia the very same day it had happened, in sheer panic, when the meaning of what he'd done finally really sunk in –because when he'd seen Scotland half dead on the ground hadn't been the worst yet, clearly. Prussia seemed to feel as guilty over it as if he'd almost killed his new friend himself, as if he'd been there and he should've done something about it. As if he even could have.  
Germany, feeling very uncomfortable about it all, couldn't help talking privately to his brother before their meeting with the Emperor and General Staff would begin, and ask him what he knew would be a difficult question: "Is this what you once told me, that you did horrible things once? Was it… was it as bad as this?"  
Prussia stood rigid when his little brother asked him that question, and the young empire almost regretted asking it. Especially when the albino sighed and shook his head, answering in a simple whisper: "Worse."  
Germany wanted to ask more, he wanted to finally know what it was his brother had done that he regretted so much. But Prussia already walked away, clearly not wanting to talk about any of this, and Germany lost his chance again. Instead he just followed him to the meeting room, and sat down under the disapproving stares of his Emperor and Foreign Minister; his General Staff didn't seem quite as frustrated and worried. Prussia sat beside Germany, and the younger nation shoved just a tiny bit closer, just for moral support.  
"It took us some time," the Foreign Minister sighed when everyone had gathered, "but my British colleague has finally given me some information as to the state the personification of Scotland is in after the incident a few weeks ago." Germany couldn't breathe for a moment and his heart skipped a beat just before the human could break the news to him and Prussia. "He is alive and recovering, but he is understandably unable to re-join the war for the duration of it, if not for the fact that his injuries are too grave and the gas messed up his lungs, then for that fact the Chlorine also… left him blind."  
" _Blind?_ " Germany choked out, that one word pulling the ground from under his feet and opening a crevice too deep to see the bottom. He'd done that to someone? To a fellow nation? He'd… by some stupid mistake… made someone blind?  
He whipped around to stare at Prussia when the older nation whispered something, in pure horror, added what almost sounded like a whimper. The albino was paler than usual, his gaze focused on something only he could see, it seemed. His lips moved, but Germany could hardly hear what came over them. "Saxony," he caught. "I'm sorry… so sorry…"  
"Prussia…?"  
But Prussia got up then, without a word, spun around and ran out of the room. Germany only briefly glanced at the humans before he got up and ran after him. Prussia was fast, but unsure where to go to, and his brief moments of hesitation every time he reached the end of a corridor were what gave Germany the opportunity to catch up to him eventually. "Brother!" he called out to him when he was but a few paces away from him. To his surprise, Prussia halted. The albino didn't quite look up, but he didn't avoid Germany's gaze, either.  
Germany didn't know what to say for a moment. His mind was still reeling from the news about Scotland, and questions about Prussia's reaction to it flooded his mind as well. How to go about this? What to even ask? He had no clue. But at least he was certain that Prussia wasn't going to try and run away again now, because finally the kingdom met Germany's blue gaze with his own red one. The younger nation took a deep breath. "Gilbert, what… what was that all about?" he asked carefully, hoping he would get an answer. He didn't even care if it was a clear one, just if he got one would be fine. "What does Saxony have to do with any of this?"  
Prussia shook his head and averted his gaze again. "You don't want to know," he choked out, his muscles tense and his voice soft. "Really, you don't."  
"Really, I do," Germany insisted. Why couldn't Prussia just answer the damn question? Why did he always feel the need to keep secrets, even from Germany, his very own brother? Nothing that Germany could imagine could ever make him love his brother less, why didn't Prussia see that? Whatever it was, it would be fine. He just wanted –needed- to know.  
Prussia shook his head again, but more feebly now, and then he sighed and gave in. "I… I blinded someone before," he confessed in a whisper, sounding miserable, his voice full of regret and guilt and sadness. "In the Seven Weeks' War against Austria, before you were born, I was attacked by Saxony. I don't fully remember what led up to it, but where we at first fought each other verbally, he charged at me at one point and I… I drew my sword on instinct." He shuddered for a moment, and Germany could think of nothing to help him feel even a little better right now. He himself was stunned, though what else could he have expected? This explanation made a lot of sense, considering how Prussia had reacted to Scotland having gone blind because of the Chlorine. The albino wasn't done explaining yet, though. "When I drew my sword like that, I ended up cutting him right across the face. From his left jaw to the right side of his forehead. It cut into his left eye… He wouldn't have been fully blind, I think, but at that moment he was because the right was covered in blood."  
 _Wouldn't have been?_ That was an odd tense to use. Germany started piecing the rest of the story together automatically, though Prussia told him after some hesitation, anyway. Since he'd figured this out already now, he wasn't surprised to hear the end of his brother's story… but it still shocked him.  
Prussia paled even more as he spoke the last few sentences, his eyes glazed over with utter horror at the memories. "I tried to help him, I swear I did. I stitched the cut and tried to disinfect it, but I didn't have the supplies to help him as much as was needed, and… I-I went to look for help once I'd done the basics, Ludwig, I tried so hard to find help for him! But… but it took ages before I found others who could help, and by that time it was… it was already too late." He stood motionless for a few seconds after he finished telling this to Germany, then sighed deeply and closed his eyes in shame.  
Germany stood rigid. Was this what Prussia had meant with that he had done even worse things? It sure fit the bill. After all, what he had told Germany just now had been as much an accident as the Chlorine incident with Scotland had been. Only Germany's mistake hadn't been a fatal one.  
He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't. "You… you killed Saxony?" But he did believe it. Prussia wouldn't lie about this.  
The albino nodded slightly, silent, still not looking at Germany. But when the younger nation asked why he had never talked about it before, he did answer. "Because it was never the right time to tell you," he sighed, voice barely louder than a whisper. "I didn't want to tell you in the first place. It… was never necessary for you to know."  
Somehow, this got Germany's blood boiling in rage. "Oh, really?" he snapped, raising his voice. "So it's not important for me to know that you –by accident of course- killed your own brother? I don't need to know any of that?" He gritted his teeth, hands clenched into angry fists. Prussia had killed one of their siblings, but had never considered telling Germany about it? The empire wouldn't have condemned his brother for it, absolutely not. Clearly he hadn't wanted to hurt the Saxon, accidents just happen sometimes. He'd learnt that the hard way just weeks ago himself. He did, however, condemn Prussia for deciding it was a good idea to keep this from him. Because why would he, other than because he either thought his little brother was maybe too young, too naïve, or in any way not ready to hear such a thing, or because he was afraid Germany would hate him for it. The latter being the most selfish reason; lying to someone so that they would love you!  
A low growl rose in Germany's throat. "Sometimes you are unbelievable, Gilbert," he muttered to the older nation, who flinched at the anger in his younger brother's voice. "How many more things have you been keeping from me all my life? More importantly, _why_ would you lie to me? Don't you trust me?"  
Prussia's only answer was silence, and a wide, pleading gaze. As if he was begging for forgiveness.  
Honestly, he would get that. Of course Germany would forgive him for this. But not now, not yet. "I don't care that you killed Saxony, you know," the young empire grumbled. "Not in so much that I blame you for it. It was an honest mistake, just like what I did to Scotland, I'm sure of it. But I'm getting tired of you keeping things from me, for whatever reason! Prussia, I'm old and wise enough to deal with things like this, don't you see? I don't need you to protect me from reality, I'm not a child anymore! So would you finally stop it with the lies, the secrecy?" Other emotions now washed over him, replacing the anger. Guilt. Pain. His mind was back with Scotland, imagining what the old kingdom must feel like now, injured and disabled for what could be the rest of his life. Choked up, Germany added softly: "I only want your help dealing with things that are happening now, brother, not to shield me from the world… I've seen with my own eyes what the world is like!" He fought to keep his emotions under control, but it was no easy task. Still, he managed to keep his voice from cracking, managed to stop tears from welling up, no matter how horrible he felt. "I've seen with my own two eyes that this world is cruel, unforgiving and cold. That it can be a living Hell. Stop pretending it isn't, stop pretending the world is a better place than it is, _please._ "  
Prussia stared straight at him in shocked silence, unable to respond for a few moments. Then he turned his gaze to the floor instead. "I'm sorry, Ludwig," he whispered. "I… I never pretended that I hadn't done such terrible things –I've told you, I've done things too horrible to recount… Too horrible for me to ever want to talk about them again…" He took a deep breath and looked back up at Germany, his eyes still holding a silent plea. "It's not so much that I didn't want you to know, honestly. I mean, I didn't want you to, and I still don't, but that's not the main reason. I… I just don't want to talk about any of it. Ever." He sighed then, his breath shaky with emotion. "Please, Ludwig, I'm begging you… Please don't make me."  
Finally Germany cooled down again. He'd overreacted. He knew he had. "I'm sorry, brother," he said softly. "But please… don't lie to me. All right? I shouldn't have reacted like I did, I… At least you told me the truth for once. Thank you for that."  
Prussia nodded, calming down a bit now, too, now that he knew that his little brother wasn't too angry. "You're worried about Scotland," he guessed softly. "Aren't you?"  
Germany couldn't speak anymore now. Instead he just nodded.  
 _I'm so sorry for what I've done…_


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, I'm back, I made it...!  
Chances are, I won't survive my Latin test tomorrow, so if I never update, you'll know what happened *shudders*  
(Actually would be fine tomorrow if I had spent time studying instead of writing this morning but I can't _not_ write, I'd go crazy)**

 **Thanks to pinkdoughnuts for the review!**

 **This one is a tad more lighthearted. I don't know why that happened, but it happened. And hey, it was time for that again. I hope you'll like it!**

* * *

"I assure you, Prussia, the Italians pose no threat to us."  
"Are you really sure about that? You've lost once."  
Germany watched the conversation between Austria and Prussia in silence, calmly sitting beside Hungary, who was watching with an equal amount of calm, simply sipping her tea as the scene unfolded. Of course Prussia was riling Austria up on purpose. Of course Austria was trying to prove again and again that he was better than Prussia. It was always like that.  
"We've lost once, we've won once," the Austrian protested, chin up. "We're doing well this time around, so I see another victory on the horizon. Don't underestimate my army, Prussia."  
The younger of the two cousins just shrugged. "Hey, if you say so. I'm just saying, though, losing to Italy is like the worst of the worst. Those two have proven that they're not exactly soldier material."  
Now Austria just sighed and didn't respond anymore, and Germany wondered if it was because he could not deny that fact or if he was just tired of Prussia always having an answer to whatever he said.  
Germany just hoped they could soon move on to more serious, pressing issues, or at least a serious discussion. This was just a waste of time so far. Beside him, Hungary seemed to think the same, as she sighed and put her tea down, staring at the two. "Next time we're to hold a progress evaluation, Ludwig," she suggested flatly, "let's make sure it's just you and me. It's the only way we'll ever get any work done."  
"Oh, really?" Austria, who had heard this comment, then demanded irritably. "I don't see you working much, either!" Hungary almost flinched at the anger in his voice, but she kept her calm exterior. Germany was more surprised, though; Austria almost never snapped at anyone, not that he knew of, and definitely not at Hungary.  
Prussia hadn't expected this either, it seemed, and he tensed because of it. "Hey!" he burst out, raising his voice now. "Would you not talk to her like that, you shit?"  
For this, naturally, Austria turned on him again. "Would _you_ not tell me what I can and can't do? Also, don't forget Hungary's my wife, and what and how she and I speak to each other is none of your business!" He looked as ready to punch Prussia as the kingdom did him, but it didn't come to that, thankfully.  
Only because Hungary stepped in now, getting up with still that same calm demeanour. "That's enough, guys. Roderich, that we're married doesn't give you the right to treat me like garbage –and I'm not saying that you do, it's just an example- then throw a fit when someone corrects you. I thought we were a union based on mutual respect, and you'd do good to remember it." Then she sighed and turned her blank green gaze to Prussia, who only smiled sheepishly at the stare she gave him, one that clearly asked what the hell he thought he was doing. "Gil, don't you dare 'protect' me, got it? I'm plenty capable of defending myself, physically and verbally. Also, if you think you can win me over like this… not a chance."  
The albino laughed nervously, in a way that simply screamed 'busted'. Of course he did. "Well, you know me, Lizzie," he tried to defend himself feebly. "I don't give up my battles. If I start a conquest, I keep on going until I've conquered my prize." Hungary rolled her eyes at this, though she couldn't seem to suppress her amusement over this comment, because she also smirked a little. She didn't say anything as she turned to bring her teacup to the kitchen, though. Until Prussia added with a wink: "I promise you, Lizzie, it's only a matter of time before you change your mind. Until then, I'll be right here, waiting patiently for you, honey!"  
"Bite me, Gil."  
"Sure, if you want to," the kingdom just joked, snickering now. "Where do you prefer?"  
Germany sighed, wondering whether he should be annoyed or amused or both. He glanced at Hungary for a moment as she left the room, counting down in silence. _3… 2… 1…  
Smack!_  
And just as predicted, Austria had hit Prussia over the head for his behaviour. Sometimes they were so predictable it was as if they had a script for it all. In fact, Germany had guessed the general message in Austria's next words flawlessly, though the exact words he used were different. "Honestly, Prussia, you've got some nerve," he muttered angrily, gritting his teeth. "Flirting with a woman while she has clearly rejected you several times, right in front of her husband at that!"  
"Dude, chill," Prussia sighed, sitting back as he gingerly rubbed the sore spot on his skull Austria's hand had left. "I'm just teasing. It's just a game, dammit."  
This was Germany's chance to interrupt. The best opportunity he'd had so far. "Exactly," the young empire scolded his brother with a correcting stare. "But you should remember it's war, not playtime. Get serious, I mean it."  
Honestly, the young nation didn't know what was worse anymore: the battles to fight, or these forced breaks they were supposed to take regularly, starting with this one? He dreaded every second he spent in the trenches, but these moments at home or, in this case, visiting their allies, were just as bad. For some reason they were all irritated and easily aggravated. Well, not that it was surprising of course. Who wouldn't be, after all? But especially with Prussia it was as if the nation was seeking conflict whenever he wasn't fighting an official battle. Hungary had assured Germany already that this wasn't unusual for Prussia during wartime; she hadn't confirmed her theory yet, but she figured this was Prussia's way of dealing with stress.  
By being a damn jerk to everybody.  
Sounded accurate enough.  
Next there was Austria, of course. He was more emotionally-controlled than Prussia was (but then, so was 90% of the world population, going by Germany's experience so far), but still a lot more short-tempered than he sometimes made out to be. When Austria was stressed out, he was pissed off. When he was pissed off, getting him anywhere within a 100-metre radius of Prussia was just asking for a war to break out between the two.  
Hungary herself could be hard to judge. One moment she looked like she was genuinely trying to mediate between the two cousins and avoid conflict, the next it looked as if she was purposefully fuelling their irritations. Even worse, it sometimes looked to Germany as if she was encouraging Prussia in his annoying flirting with her, paying no mind to whether Austria was or wasn't near. Of course he would never give up if she seemed to enjoy the attention. It sure didn't help.  
Germany was, naturally, the innocent bystander caught in the middle. He'd long since given up trying to keep the three older nations under control, and instead was there only to watch, disapprove, and sometimes remind them of their tasks if they took things too far. Like now.  
Had they honestly forgotten about the terrible war going on outside the walls of this house, or did they just not care?

For once, Prussia seemed to actually listen to him, his eyes flashing with a certain unrecognisable emotion as he turned to look at his younger brother. He smiled, but it was clearly forced and not very convincing. "Hey, Ludwig," he said softly, his voice having a completely different tone to it than just seconds ago. Soft and gentle as if he were trying to assure a scared child that there was nothing to be afraid of. It was almost patronising. "This is fine, all right? We can't think about the war every second of every day, can we? How would we survive any of that?" By some miracle, Austria nodded and voiced his agreement to his cousin's words.  
But it didn't do whatever Prussia had intended. On the contrary, Germany was hit with a wave of anger over this statement. How could they _not_ think about the war? "Well, I'm still alive, aren't I?" he retorted curtly, getting up from the couch. "Apparently it's not so difficult to survive it as you might think." Neither of the two nations responded to this as the young German walked away, and Germany didn't spare them a single glance anymore, either.  
With a sigh he went into the hallway, planning to go sit in the garden or something despite the chilly October air. Anything to not have to be with them for now. Once they had relocated and successfully retrieved their common sense, he would consider going back, but not before then.  
But in the hallway, Hungary was waiting for him, looking at him with an even gaze. "I heard that," she told him softly, and he just sighed. Still, she asked him: "Mind if I come with you, wherever you're headed?"  
He wanted to tell her that she was no better than them, that he wanted some time alone and that she should leave him alone. For some reason he instead told her that it was all right with him, and he dreaded her following him outside. Once there, he sat down on one of the few garden chairs, grimacing for only a moment when he found it still wet from the drizzling rain that morning. Hungary noticed the same thing, and wisely decided that it would be more comfortable just standing there. She inspected the younger country in silence for about a minute, then sighed softly.  
"Ludwig, what's going on?" she asked him carefully, sounding worried about him all of a sudden. "I know we're all not in the best mood, but you… Something's off. Can I help in any way?"  
Germany huffed, then met her gaze with a blank stare of his own. "Maybe by acting as if you care about what's going on," he muttered, glancing briefly at the house. "Same goes for those two." But he couldn't deny that there was truth to Hungary's words. Less than a year ago, he had welcomed distraction from the war with open arms when he'd gotten that chance with Christmas. Months ago he had almost begged to be given a time-out from battle and bloodshed and pretend he could still find some normalcy in his life. Now he had another such short break, and he loathed every second not spent on something useful. He didn't want to go back to the battlefield, though.  
Hungary seemed to sense his own confusion over this, and smiled reassuringly. "What's on your mind, Ludwig?" she asked, though she didn't wait for him to answer –a good choice, because he wouldn't have answered it anyway- and instead guessed almost immediately: "This is still about Scotland, isn't it?"  
…Dammit. She was insightful sometimes, all right. She had her oblivious moments, but the young woman knew Germany well. He hesitated a moment. "…Partly, yes."  
Hungary bent down now, until her face was at the same level as Germany's, and looked straight at him with a stare so intense it forced him to meet her gaze. There was warmth in her eyes, comfort, but also pity and worry. "It was a mistake, yes," she began, her voice soft but clear as she spoke. "But accidents can be just that –a simple mistake with grave consequences. And the one who made that mistake can hardly be blamed for it. Unless they were acting recklessly, knowingly putting others at risk, it's not their fault." She paused for a moment, waiting maybe for a response, but the young nation was listening almost breathlessly, only staring back at her in silence. "You didn't know," the Hungarian then went on. "You had no idea that he was there. You were following orders. And yes, you knew that what you were ordered to do was wrong, you all did, but you had no idea what consequences it would have exactly. You're not to blame, Ludwig. I'm sure Scotland knows that."  
Almost as if on auto-pilot, Germany shook his head and replied this time, though he hardly realised that he was speaking until he was already halfway through his sentence. "Because I was there, he almost didn't know _anything_ anymore," he protested softly. "Would never know anything again. He could've died because of me!"  
"He would've been injured and incapable of fighting anymore for a while even if you hadn't been. That gas is terrible; prolonged exposure to it has got to be harmful to us, too, albeit less so than to humans."  
"But I _was_ there!" Germany insisted, growing tense. Why couldn't she just see the problem? Why did she have to try again and again to tell him none of it was his fault, while he was clearly the cause of it all? "Because of that, he is injured and incapable of fighting, well, maybe _permanently!_ And not just of fighting –he's blind, for God's sake, I don't think he's even capable of fending for himself right now, if he ever will be again. All because I just had to be there, goddammit. I've ruined someone's life –a potentially eternal life. We're not talking about decades here, we're talking centuries, perhaps still millennia!" He quickly averted his gaze now, hoping to escape her calm expression. He couldn't stand it, not now. Not like this.  
But despite his fierce reaction, she still insisted in a soft, warm voice: "And was it your own decision to be there?" A silence fell, and though Germany didn't answer, Hungary knew what that answer would have been anyway, and she just went on after a minute or so. "I think not. So believe me, Ludwig, it's not your fault." She hesitated for a moment, then brushed some droplets of water from the chair beside him and sat down after all, carefully holding his hand in both her own. "I understand that you're frustrated over our supposed indifference over the war –but trust me, I can never really stop thinking about it either, and neither can those two idiots. We just try, for the sake of seeking some normalcy in all this chaos. But do you understand that what you're doing is just as frustrating for all of us?"  
He looked up at this, unable to hide his confusion. How was this frustrating for them? He hardly interfered in their attempts at distracting themselves. He mostly just let them be and wished they would do the same to him.  
Hungary answered this unspoken question quickly. "It's because we don't know how to help you, Ludwig," she explained, a hint of sadness now in her still warm, calm voice. "The only thing we can do is talk about it, but no matter what we say, nothing changes. We can try to take your mind off it, but you won't let us. You're making it impossible for us to help. Meanwhile, you're just torturing yourself with constantly reminding yourself of all the bad and telling yourself that you're the wrongdoer, that it's all your fault."  
Somehow her words brought a lump to Germany's throat, which he tried hard to swallow and ignore, but it wouldn't go away. At least he didn't sound too choked up when he protested feebly: "But it is my fault. My people did horrible things to the Belgians when we invaded their land. We stepped out of line when we attacked France like we did. We've massacred entire Russian corps. Now we're filling the air with poison to win our battles, and where do those victories bring us to? Nothing. The war is still at a stalemate. All that bloodshed we've caused, and we're still getting nowhere." He sighed deeply, letting his shoulders hang. "We've done monstrous things, Hungary. I know the others have, too, but how can I ignore the fact that my people are committing atrocious acts?"  
She let go of his hand, and instead the older nation grabbed his face, turning it back in her direction, forcing the young German to look at her again. Her gaze was harder now –still warm and compassionate, but hard. She meant business now. "You're young," she told him bluntly, pulling him back when he tried to turn away and look elsewhere. "You've grown up quickly, you're mature in more than one way, I know. But you still haven't learnt every lesson a nation needs to learn as they grow up. Germany, you are your people, but you're also a _person_. You represent them, but therefore it's the people who influence you, not the other way around. None of what your people do is because of you. If you died, it's not like the every last German on the planet would vanish! If that happened, however, _you_ would. You do not control your people, they control you. They do not exist because of you, you exist because of them." She waited once again, letting those words sink in for a moment. Germany couldn't even think about moving away now, or responding, anything. He could only listen, waiting patiently for her next words. Hungary's expression softened again, her hold on him still there but weaker. "However, it's true that the nation is usually the one who gets the blame for his people's actions. But this is unfair. Yes, your people have done and undoubtedly will still do terrible things. But that doesn't make you responsible, it doesn't make you a monster! Ludwig, sweetie, you're a _good person._ You're a kid who has and has had to grow up too quickly. I won't tell you that you're innocent, because that would be a lie; no nation is innocent. But don't let anyone convince you that you're responsible for all this, because you're not. Don't you ever believe them when they tell you that you're a monster –you're an honest, good soul, tainted only by a situation you were forced into due to circumstances." For a moment he thought she was finished, and he already couldn't breathe anymore, that lump having grown steadily as the Hungarian woman spoke and now completely choking him. But Hungary still added in a voice barely louder than a whisper: "When we're speaking of nations as individuals, sweetie, trust me when I say that, of all the nations fighting in this war, you are the closest to being completely innocent."  
Germany noticed that he was trembling by now. His eyes felt prickly, he realised blankly. How long had those few tears been there? He hadn't noticed them before now. He gritted his teeth for a moment, then opened his mouth, wanting to say something. Not a single sound came over his lips, though, and he gave up just seconds later. Feeling more tears well up now, he quickly closed his eyes before they could overflow, trying desperately to suppress his emotions. But he couldn't; the tension in his body only increased, the tears dripped down from his eyelids now, he still couldn't breathe. His heart began racing in panic. He had to, he had to control himself! Emotions were dangerous, emotions were what brought people to make mistakes, emotions could be deadly, he had to-!  
Hungary's soft voice pierced these frantic thoughts, wiping them away from his mind in an instant. "It's all right," she reminded him. "You're not on the battlefield here. You don't have to fight here. It's all right."  
Right. He _wasn't_ on the battlefield. It was okay here. Emotions were all right outside the battlefield… weren't they? Yes, yes, they had to be. He didn't have to fight soldiers now, so he didn't have to fight these, either. Wasn't that right? It was according to Hungary. It must be okay… It was fine if he stopped fighting this hopeless battle, even if just for a moment. Just like the battles his people fought, this one wouldn't help him go forward. It would only be meaningless damage. Best to give in now.  
All this swirled through his mind in a single second after Hungary had spoken. In the next, he was already crying, unable to stop it even if he tried. And Hungary just hugged him, silent now, which was exactly what he needed.  
Just… silence. Someone there with him, yes, but silence.  
She really did know him well.

* * *

Prussia watched approvingly from where he stood in the kitchen, the backdoor that led to the garden just slightly open. He had still been hoping that a blunt approach like this one wouldn't have been necessary, though he had begun to see that, unfortunately, it was. He also knew for a certainty that Germany wouldn't have listened to him quite as well as he would anyone else, for the simple reason that he was used to his brother giving him lengthy lectures on the struggles of life and how to overcome them. Maybe also because, due to Prussia's own occasional mental and emotional instability, he no longer believed the kingdom even knew what he was talking about; if this were true, Prussia couldn't even blame Germany for it. Sometimes he doubted even himself if he was fit to give such advice. Well, he could at least serve as an example: 'whatever you do, avoid becoming like this at all costs!' ('And maybe, once you've figured out how to do that, you can tell me how?') He was such a pathetic brother sometimes. Thankfully he was also still awesome, just not always anymore.  
"Looks like she has performed yet another miracle," Austria commented softly as he stood behind Prussia, watching along over the albino's shoulder. The two cousins had stopped bickering the moment Germany had walked away like he did.  
Prussia smiled and gave a short nod. "Thank God she did…" The young empire had never said so aloud, but Prussia was pretty sure he viewed Hungary as an older sister of sorts. Whatever she was to him, it was more than just his cousin's wife. Since he's known her all his life, it was hardly surprising, especially since Germany had met Austria and Hungary before he'd very well met the Benelux, let alone Switzerland and Liechtenstein.  
Austria stepped away then, and Prussia followed him, softly closing the door again. "When did he start thinking he isn't allowed to feel anything, anyway?" the Austrian asked once he and Prussia were back in the living room. He didn't sound like he was accusing Prussia of anything, but it did feel like it to the albino.  
Prussia shifted uncomfortably, looking away with a deep sigh. "Since a year or so…" he confessed softly, feeling almost ashamed of it now. "When we were so suddenly separated by the General Staff, I… I panicked. I told him he must try to suppress his emotions, because they can pose a serious threat in certain situations."  
"True," Austria commented flatly, raising one eyebrow at this, as if he couldn't believe how stupid the younger nation could be sometimes. "In certain situations. But in most situations it's pure suicide to even attempt to block out emotions. And that he blames himself for everything? Did he pick that up from you as well?"  
Prussia flinched and turned his red gaze to the floor, his shoulders raised almost defensively. "Maybe… subconsciously… It's not like I knowingly taught him to do so, but I… Well, I do blame myself for a lot of shit."  
Suddenly Austria wacked him over the head, scolding him harshly: "You utter numbskull! You don't honestly believe that you're in any way fit to give anyone advice on how to deal with emotions, do you?" Prussia looked up slowly, knowing full well that Austria was right and expecting another reprimand or something of the likes. But instead when he met his cousin's gaze, the older nation's eyes shone rather sympathetically. They stared at each other for a moment, then Austria sighed. "You look pathetic when you're acting meek for a change," he stated flatly. "Now come on, you fool."  
Then before Prussia could even guess what was going on, Austria held him in a hug. None too close, none too enthusiastically, but willingly. "I know that we basically fought a war over who gets to raise Germany," the Austrian said in a soft voice, "but until you've got yourself together again, how about you leave Germany to me and Elizaveta?" He let go of Prussia again and stepped back, looking Prussia straight in the eyes. "Not to take away any brother privileges or however one might call it, not at all. You'll always be his brother and I'll always be his cousin. But it's just…" He sighed and shook his head slowly, and when he looked back at Prussia he looked almost desperate. "You were going to get help," he reminded the younger nation. "Then the war started, and I know and fully understand that you can't do so right now, but in the meantime I cannot watch you ruin Germany. All right?"  
While these words hurt to Prussia, of course, he knew that Austria only meant well and was only thinking of Germany. Well… of Prussia, too. He smiled. "Sure." Then, jokingly, he added: "But don't teach him your sissy antics, you hear me?"  
Austria snorted, but for this once he only went along with the joke. "Sissy antics? Oh, you mean baking and music? Gilbert, _please,_ you know full well that you can't fool me; you love every note I play and do I really need to remind you how much you love my baking?"  
Just the thought of it made the Prussian's mouth water, and he snickered. "Well, I seem to have forgotten indeed… So how about you go into the kitchen and work your sissy magic? Just to serve as a reminder, of course."  
Now, Austria just laughed. "You're the worst! Honestly, Prussia, go learn for yourself how to bake."  
"Your _Sachertorte_ is a piece of art."  
"Did I hear the word _Sachertorte?_ " suddenly came Hungary's voice, startling both nations; she was walking back into the living room, Germany right behind her. Hungary just skipped over to Austria's side, giving her husband a quick kiss on the cheek. "Darling, that sounds like a wonderful idea!" she said with a grin, then she turned to look at Prussia and gave him a playful wink and a smirk. Prussia grinned back silently.  
Meanwhile, Germany sat down on the couch and poured himself some coffee, which was only just about still hot enough, asking the others if they wanted any as well. "I must say, though," he commented calmly as he also poured cups for the three older nations, "I wouldn't say no to _Sachertorte_."  
Austria, who hadn't even gotten the chance to say anything, was already being pushed toward the kitchen by Hungary as he began spluttering protests. "Ah-ah," Hungary silenced him with a chuckle. "It's cake duty for you today. I'm sure it'll be as delicious as always."  
"And don't go too easy on the apricots!"  
"Shut up, Prussia."  
"…Actually, I agree with brother for once."

* * *

 **Germany will have such a long way to go until he's as emotionally controlled and composed as he is in the manga. It's a hard road to being in full control of your own heart. A hard, endless road; for no one is ever fully in control. One way or the other, emotions will always come back to you, and if you've spent so much time bottling them up they will only come back worse and worse.**

 **Also I know from personal experience that, if you've done bad things, it's all too easy to think of yourself as a bad person, too. But that's not it; actions do not define the person -actions do not always reflect what's in a person's soul. But it's so easy to think that, and so hard to break that thought.**

 **Thankfully for both Germany and Prussia, there's always Austria and Hungary, there to support them!**

 **(Also, as I was writing this, I remembered how Hungary, in canon, called Germany 'Doitsu-chan' or something along those lines... which in here I have decided to translate permanently to 'sweetie'! She's the only one who can still call him that and get away with it. Well, until it happens in public...! *snickers*)**

 **Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A big thank-you to TheOldKaiser, MissiriKoharehn and pinkdoughnuts for the reviews!  
MissiriKoharehn, ww2 will be... well. *smirk* But at least they're _both_ more used to it by then. Germany's mostly freaking out now because it's not only his very first war, but also basically the worst war in the history of humanity up to that point. It's like being nervous for your very first swimming lesson, and instead of being carefully placed into the kiddy pool then, you get flung into the ocean. During a storm.  
Cracks the nervousness up to full-blown panic attack and likely trauma for the rest of your life.**

 **...Don't ask. My mind works in mysterious ways, and this is like, the weirdest comparison I've made in a loooong time.**

 **Ohoho, a certain scene in this popped into my mind several months ago, well before I even finished CYH. So glad I could finally use it, it wouldn't leave me alone.**

 **To me this chapter feels a bit like a filler... I hope it's a good one, anyway!**

* * *

It was so cold.  
One of the first days in the year 1916, and Prussia spent it alongside his soldiers in a snow-filled trench, trying very hard not to freeze to death. Or, in his particular case, freeze to coma or whatever that would be. January in East Prussia was cold, he was used to that. However, he'd never before had to spend day and night out in the cold quite like this, burrowed a few metres underground with frozen earth on all sides. It was almost like they were in an icy cave with an open roof to let even more snow and ice in.  
Prussia himself wore two layers of his uniform, a thick woollen coat, he had a scarf wrapped three times around his neck and covering his mouth and nose, and then he also had gloves so thick he could barely bend his fingers and a fur cap.  
Didn't prevent his eyes from freezing over, though.  
He and a couple other soldiers sat together, each with a cigarette, and some others had joined them despite hating the acrid smoke. The warmth it also held weighed up against all discomfort from the stench. They hadn't been fighting at all lately, so aside from fighting hypothermia, they were quite relaxed now.  
One of the men, a poor unfortunate soul who didn't have gloves, was blowing into his hands and then sticking them under his coat repeatedly. He chuckled a bit as he inspected his fingers with a grimace. "If we stay here too long," he sighed, "we'll all end up looking as pale as Prussia!"  
Prussia snickered, and so did the other soldiers. One of them leant over to someone else and plucked some snow out of his hair. "Well, that's one thing that's gone white already," he joked.  
Deciding to join in, if only to show that he didn't feel offended by any of these jokes, Prussia added: "As for the red eyes, they're not hard to get: stay awake for 48 hour straight and there you go, spontaneous albinism."  
The others laughed at this. Honestly, over here the jokes didn't even have to be good. Just so long as you could find something to joke about, everyone loved it. But one of them grew quiet more quickly than the others. "But doesn't it bother you at all, sir?" he asked Prussia with a curious gaze. "I heard it can cause blindness, cancer, all such things…"  
"Well, true," Prussia answered, once again thanking the heavens that he didn't have all that. "But me being what I am, I'm lucky enough to be healthy." Though if he had to be honest, he wasn't completely 'healthy', not as much as other nations were. He got a sunburn easier than most humans did due to his albinism, and he honestly had yet to see another nation get one as bad as he did even if they spent all day from dawn 'til dusk under a bright sun. His eyesight was generally good, but it fluctuated on particularly sunny days. Nowadays, ever since he'd begun to lose status after the establishment of the German Empire, he was also more prone to illness than he'd once been. Just minor things, thankfully, the common cold or just the flu.  
Still, these humans didn't need to know that. "I suppose it's too much of a hassle for the world to have a disabled nation," he speculated out loud. "So we don't get born with disabilities." Except Württemberg, but a slight deformity wasn't too bad. Thinking about it, that had probably put him in a similar position as Prussia was in, just in a different way; he had to use a cane to walk properly and could never fight well.  
"Don't get… born with them?" another soldier echoed, slightly disturbed by those words. "But you… you can get disabilities?"  
 _Crack._ A tear in his wall. Nothing he couldn't patch up quick, though. The kingdom sighed deeply, his gaze on the frozen ground for a moment. "Just months ago, on the Western Front, Scotland was blinded in an accident with chlorine. M-my brother, Saxony, died in an accident… but if he had lived he'd have lost an eye as well. Austria was lucky to have recovered from… from a cowardly attack on my part. I broke both his legs and… he could've stayed in that wheelchair forever if they hadn't healed up like they did." He fell silent, realising that all humans around him were quiet as well now, listening intently. He shook his head. "Point being," the kingdom concluded in a soft voice, "under certain circumstances we're just as vulnerable as humans are." Prussia was quiet for a moment then, and none of the humans spoke anymore, either. Eventually he just grinned, took a nice, deep breath of his cigarette to warm himself, then took off his gloves; the poor human who had none was rubbing his hands together again. So the kingdom tossed them his way without a word, and the young man only stared at him gratefully and put them on, choking out a thanks after that.

Suddenly a voice further down the trench startled Prussia and the other soldiers, and they all looked up. "You there, stay back!" someone yelled, his gun aimed at something that, to Prussia, was still hidden in the shadows of the night. The albino got up quickly and went their way.  
"What's going on?" he asked immediately.  
The humans looked doubtful. "Someone's approaching," one of them said. "But it's only a single man. Should we shoot him, sir?" They really didn't seem to want to, which was understandable; they had killed more men than any normal human could handle, like any soldier here. That was the burden of defending their nation.  
"We'll see…" Prussia just told them softly, confused by it all. Why would a single person be coming here in the first place? He looked over the edge of the trench, but he couldn't see much yet. "Are you sure there's someone there?" he asked almost immediately. The soldiers, three of them, all said yes. The albino huffed and squinted. _How can anyone see in darkness like this, anyway?_ But then, a second or so later, he could see someone moving in the shadows, too. He waited a few seconds longer, until the person came closer and he could make out more of him. He recognised the silhouette before he could see anything else, and he couldn't control himself for just a second. " _Russia?!_ "  
The soldiers around him all stiffened when he said that name, but they didn't shoot the other nation –they knew it would be useless, anyway. Meanwhile Russia stopped walking, silent for a moment. Then Prussia heard him chuckle. "I know that voice!" he said happily. "Must be my lucky day. Hello, Prussia. How are you?" He then got closer again, and Prussia climbed out of the trench, utterly confused by this. Why would Russia be here?  
But he didn't get the chance to say anything when Russia stood in front of him, smiling kindly. But as always, that 'kind' smile sent shivers down Prussia's spine. "Oh, that's no good, Prussia," Russia scolded him with another chuckle, sticking his hands into his pockets. Prussia stiffened at this, expecting something bad, but he only pulled out a pair of gloves. "We don't want your fingers to freeze off, do we?" the Russian said, sliding the gloves onto Prussia's hands. The kingdom was too stunned to move. "I always keep an extra pair with me, you know," Russia said calmly. "You should, too, in this weather. You can keep those."  
Prussia was still for just a moment longer, staring at the other nation in complete confusion, then he shook his head and recollected himself. "What the fuck are you doing here, dammit?" he demanded angrily, though in truth he was more freaked out than angry. "Goddamn, Russia, do you ever do _normal_ stuff? You creep, sneaking up on us in the middle of the night. You _are_ alone, aren't you?"  
Russia tilted his head. "To your last two questions, yes and yes," he answered matter-of-factly, in an eerily innocent voice. "To the first… I was hoping I would find you somewhere, and luckily I did. I want to talk to you, Prussia, if you would."  
Prussia didn't answer immediately, first searching Russia's gaze for some hint of either proof that he spoke the truth, or that he was here with other intentions. But Russia was as hard to read as ever. Eventually he sighed and nodded. "Fine. We'll go into the trees for a moment, all right?" He then turned back to his soldiers. "Don't follow us," he ordered them, a smirk forming on his lips then as he added: "Unless I'm not back within half an hour." Then he turned back to Russia, who smiled now that he got what he'd hoped for.

* * *

"So why would you come all the way here, risk your damned ass, just to come talk to me?" Prussia asked, pulling his scarf over his nose. He was shaking a little, but then, so was Russia; they were both used to the cold, so for them to react like this was a sign to both of them that it was quite literally freezing out here.  
Russia shifted uncomfortably, silent for a moment. His trademark creepy smile faded, leaving a haunted look in his eyes as he stared at the ground. "Please leave my people alone now," he pleaded in a whisper, surprising Prussia yet again. But he didn't stop yet. "We don't have the resources for a war like this, Prussia. We're starving back home. But the Tsar won't pull out of the war, he just refuses to." The younger nation turned to look at Prussia now. "We're not giving up, Prussia. But my people cannot take this anymore, they can't! So please… _you_ retreat. If you do, I promise we'll leave you alone too."  
Prussia stared at him wide-eyed. What the hell was he asking of him? The albino burst out laughing. He saw Russia's face contort in anger and dismay, but he couldn't stop laughing just now. "Seriously?" he choked out. "Dammit, aren't you an idiot today? Russia, let me tell you straight: _we are winning against you._ There's no way we're going to stop now! Not even if I wanted to." He stopped himself from laughing then, finally, and gave the younger nation a condescending pat on the shoulder. "You know, you may still leave if you want to. But we'll be going after you until we get to your capital. That's how it goes. I'm sorry, Russia," he added, more calm now. "For what it's worth, I really am. But I can't change any of it." He sighed, turning away already. "Sorry that you came here for nothing, too. Goodnight, Russia."  
But he couldn't even take a step before Russia spoke again. "You're wrong," he protested, and Prussia froze, listening quietly. "You can change this." _Enlighten me, creep._ Russia sounded desperate as he spoke. "Don't you think your government would pull out of the war if something happened to you?"  
"What?" Prussia spun around, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Russia lunging for him. He was too fast to block, and the albino was thrown into the snow.  
Russia held him pinned to the forest floor, making use of his greater length and weight; Prussia struggled, but it was feeble in comparison to Russia's strength. He felt fear grow quickly in the pit of his stomach, realising that Russia had grown stronger than he had imagined. Once it had been Prussia who had quite literally stepped on Russia, squashed him like a bug. Back then the younger nation had promised him that he would one day reverse those roles, that Prussia would be the bug and Russia would do the squashing. He'd kept his word.  
"If something terrible happened to you, Prussia," the Russian told him, sounding desperate and in panic, "they would think twice about going on, wouldn't they?" He held Prussia by the chin, pressing the back of his head into the deep snow. It came up as high as the albino's eyes. The kingdom tried to move, tried to bite Russia's hand when he realised he couldn't, but the Tsardom just moved his hand to his forehead instead. "I have to do something!" he exclaimed, and Prussia could see his eyes wide with panic and fear. "I can't, I can't watch you slaughter my people anymore! If your army won't leave us alone… If my Tsar won't retreat…" Prussia, realising now that his situation was dire and that he needed help, called out loudly, hoping his soldiers could hear. As he did, he heard a sound coming from Russia that sounded eerily similar to a sob. "I'll make this war end, then! I'll do it myself! I have to save them… They're innocent… I have to…!"  
Adrenaline coursing through his veins now, Prussia wriggled out from under Russia, turning onto his stomach to try and get away, even if it meant he had to crawl through the snow until he could stand up again. But turning like that was the biggest mistake he could have made.  
Within just a handful of Prussia's own rapid heartbeats, Russia was back on him, holding him down in the snow again, pressing the kingdom's head into it once more. This time it was his face however. "You realise you've left me no choice just now, right?" Russia choked out. "My Tsar won't listen and you won't listen –I have no choice if I want to save my people from you."  
 _No, no, no!_ Prussia's heart raced in panic when he felt the snow around his face begin to melt from his body heat. He breathed in, but got only icy water into his nose. He coughed and struggled harder. He had to free himself somehow, he had to! "Get off me!" he screamed through the snow, begging. " _Please!_ I-I can't breathe!"  
But Russia didn't react. Prussia thought he could hear him sniffling, though, which only served to freak him out more. The other nation was desperate enough to resort to murder. His situation must be worse than Prussia could even imagine. Strangely… he couldn't even feel angry at him for doing this. He could only feel terrified as he realised he was going to drown. In snow, of all things. He stopped struggling eventually, though. He knew it was useless, and he didn't have the energy and oxygen left to do it.  
Any moment now…  
"I'm sorry…"  
He breathed in.

* * *

Germany was feeling rather uneasy. He didn't know what this was, but he didn't like it much.  
But then, he hadn't fought much at all for the past weeks, and that was something he definitely liked. He was still at the Front, but he could take it, well, 'easy' now. He didn't worry about his soldiers as much as he used to, he didn't worry about his enemies as much anymore either. He knew that Prussia also hadn't been involved in battles for some time now… Things were going well, considering. So honestly, this discomfort was only a minor nuisance now that it wasn't just the umpteenth thing bothering him at the moment.  
If he had to describe it, it would be that his stomach felt a little off, that there was some sort of pressure on his throat that seemed to come from the inside. He was a bit shaky, but hardly noticeably so. Lastly he was a tad pale, according to some soldiers who had commented on this. Thinking about it, he figured this must be what Prussia had once described to him as being what nausea felt like. If he didn't dislike it so much, he might have actually found it interesting; he'd never been sick in any shape or form yet. He knew, also from what his brother had told him, that this was most likely an effect of the economy worsening. That was to be expected, really, what with the war going on. Somehow it hardly even bothered him to know that his economy wasn't as strong anymore. He had to learn what it felt like sometime, didn't he? It had only been a matter of time from the moment the war started. It was never a bad thing to experience new things that would always remain a part of his life.  
All he wanted to do right now was to read up on the state of the economy. He'd always admired how Prussia could tell from how he felt what was going on, sometimes with quite some detail, and he was rarely ever wrong. Maybe he could teach himself that, too, just like Prussia had done.  
Thinking about his brother now, he felt a stab of loneliness, none too painful, but certainly there. Okay, so maybe he missed his brother, too. But aside from that and what was likely a bad economy, he felt fine for the first time in ages. Hungary had managed to talk him out of his guilt toward Belgium and Scotland and France. Most of it, anyway. He was now at the point that he felt bad for what happened to them, but he didn't blame himself anymore. He wouldn't. He shouldn't. None of it had been his fault.  
Convinced of this now, the young nation took a deep breath. The air was freezing, but he was certain that it would warm up again, and sooner than he might think now, probably. This war, too, would end someday, just like this cold winter. And whatever the outcome, he would survive it. Him and Prussia. They could survive anything, no doubt.  
As positive-minded as he was now, Germany knew very well that one of these days he would end up worrying over every small thing that happened again. There were good days like these, and there were bad days like those. That's how things were. But so long as he could think as he did now, he would have to take advantage of that and do what he could to keep himself sane.  
Maybe this was a good moment to write to Prussia? Possibly. He would do that before trying to gather information on the state of the economy. Hopefully Prussia was doing well, too.

* * *

"Sir? General, sir?"  
"Prussia! Come on, w-wake up, sir!"  
"What did that damn Russian do to him?"  
"Drowned him, obviously. Leave it to Russians to know how to kill someone with snow. Tilt him a bit, onto his side; maybe he'll start –there you go."  
Prussia felt cold water rise in his throat, and involuntarily he started coughing, the icy liquid gushing over his lips. When he tried to breathe in, he found there was still water in his throat and lungs, but before he could do anything himself, something hit him between the shoulders repeatedly, pretty hard, which forced the last of the water out of his body. Desperate to breathe, he gasped for air, wincing when his chest seemed to contract at the motion. Groggily he blinked open his eyes, seeing mostly black and a few blurry shadows moving in his line of sight as well.  
"Thank God!" one of the blurs exclaimed. "He's alive!"  
"And freezing," another added more grimly. "We must get him warm. And whatever happens, we must not let him drift off –I heard that's dangerous. It's probably hypothermia."  
"Definitely," yet another person said. "He was face-down in the snow for who knows how long! It was definitely three minutes between when we heard him and found him, maybe he's been down longer than that, plus it's insanely cold out in the first place."  
As the figures talked like this, Prussia blinked a couple times, the world slowly coming back into focus. These were soldiers. His soldiers. He recalled that he'd been talking to Russia earlier. Where had he gone? He coughed again. Breathing hurt so much.  
"Prussia, sir," someone began, turning to the nation. "How are you feeling?"  
The kingdom didn't respond for a moment, trying to breathe deeply but coughing again. It was so cold… But he found his voice, a raspy excuse for a voice that is, a few seconds later. "Lungs… feel frozen…" he choked out, wincing again. The icy water was out of his lungs, but it was as though a block of ice lay in his chest. He was exhausted, too, but he didn't say that. They probably knew it just looking at him.  
He was lifted off the ground by one of the soldiers, and the kingdom hardly realised what was going on around him in the next few minutes. Next thing he knew, he lay in the trench again, on a couple wooden boards with something soft underneath him. It felt like some sort of blankets. Whatever it was, it shielded him from the wet and cold on the ground. People were standing beside him, one or two hovering over him. "What should we do now?" someone asked, panicky. "We hardly have enough to keep everyone here warm, and he's shivering like crazy!"  
"That's a good thing," someone else said in response. "When a person's core temperature drops too low, there will come a point where they'll stop shivering despite being severely hypothermic. Shivering means that he's warming up; it's also a mechanism of the body itself to warm up again. So this is good."  
Prussia knew that the human was right, but he didn't feel any better yet. He was slowly beginning to remember a bit more of what happened, though, which was another good sign. Russia had tried to kill him. What were things like in his land, for the nation to take such drastic, desperate measures? Prussia also recalled, very vividly, that the Russian had clearly shown how much he hated doing all that.  
Suddenly someone gently tugged on his shoulder and told him to sit up for a moment. With some difficulty, the kingdom managed to do so, getting a warm mug pressed into his hands. The liquid inside it was clear. "Water," someone told him calmly. "Lukewarm. Something too hot might burn you now, so…"  
"Thanks," Prussia choked out, interrupting the man and taking a careful sip of the water. It felt a lot warmer than lukewarm, but maybe that was only because the rest of him was so damn cold. It felt good to drink this, though. Really good.  
"We're writing a report to the General Staff in a moment, sir," one of the soldiers said, an angry edge to his voice. "This cowardly attack will not go unpunished." Some others mumbled their agreement to this statement.  
But Prussia shook his head immediately. "Don't," was all he said bluntly, much to everyone's surprise. He just calmly drank another sip of the warm water, relishing the heat it spread through his body as it went down, listening to the soldiers protesting in dismay.  
"But he tried to kill you, sir!" one man protested, sounding as if he couldn't believe that Prussia, who sometimes seemed to have no qualms with hurting others and most definitely wasn't very forgiving, was ordering them to leave Russia be after what he'd done.  
The albino sighed, fighting to keep his teeth from clattering. That he was shaking like a leaf in a storm was bad enough already. "I know," he replied calmly, his voice quivering though. "He failed. So that's that, no need to take action. If he'd really wanted to kill me, he would have succeeded."  
The human soldiers realised now that the nation wouldn't change his mind anymore, but one of them still tried. "You're our general…"  
"Exactly," was all Prussia answered to that. "So follow my orders already and do nothing."  
Not only did Prussia realise that informing anyone of this incident would be doing exactly what Russia wanted, but he also… He also…  
He felt sorry for Russia.

* * *

It took a few days before Prussia felt better again. They didn't hear anything from Russia again after that. Prussia wondered about him often; did the other nation think he'd killed Prussia? How did he feel about what he'd done? Russia was a creep sometimes, had next to no social skills at all, and Prussia was terrified of him more than anything. But this had been uncharacteristic even for Russia. The Russian was scary, he could be cruel, but he wasn't this violent and he most certainly wasn't a murderer. Most of all, Prussia could only wonder what had happened to him that he'd done something like this.  
A week after the incident, Prussia received a letter. It was from Germany. His little brother wrote about how surprisingly calm it was over at his part of the Western Front. He'd been doing well now that he'd finally been able to set aside his guilt and worries. Prussia smiled at this. He could tell from his brother's handwriting that he was telling the truth; the ink was smooth on the paper, the letters steadily written down on it. The words would've looked more forced, hastily written and shaky if he'd been lying. This warmed Prussia's heart. At least his little brother was doing well.  
Germany had also written about how he thought he might be getting sick for the first time ever. He didn't feel too bad, not yet, but definitely not completely healthy anymore, either. It was probably the economy, he wrote, then asked if Prussia could perhaps confirm this; he would try to get his hands on some reports on the economy later, but over here that wouldn't be an easy task. Prussia just nodded as he was reading over it. He'd felt the economy, too, for some time now. He was used to it, though, so it didn't bother him much at all, and he could easily block it out. He would write back to Germany later and confirm the young nation's suspicions, if by now he hadn't had that confirmation otherwise yet.  
Oh, how he missed Germany. He still couldn't get over the fact that they were being separated for most of the year. He wondered for a moment how long the war would last yet, and how it would turn out for them. Things were going well for them, but that 'success' didn't seem to get them anywhere. They were still stuck, the war a stalemate at the Western Front at least. Despite Prussia's centuries of experience in warfare, he had no idea how this would go. All he knew, was that one of these days, things would turn around drastically. He just didn't know if that meant it would change in their favour, or in their enemies'. One of these days, the war would end.  
He just hoped both he and Germany would live to see that day.

* * *

 **So I hope you liked the chapter! Also, I'm not going like many people in this fandom seem to go and make Russia evil. Yes, we will see him from Prussia's POV (Germany's, too) and Prussia is terrified of him, so I will likely exaggerate on his occasional craziness a bit. But he isn't evil. Himaruya answered to a fan's question once, that Russia isn't aware of his own cruelty. Much like a child, really. Also, this point in history is right around the time when shit started going down real bad in Russia, and that doesn't have the best effect on a person. He can be a creep and does some crazy shit, but he's not a bad person.**

 **Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! Life is keeping me busy lately, so the 'next chapter might be late' will apply for the next few weeks. I might be in time, I might not. We'll see.**

 **Thanks for reading everybody, and if you've got the time, please leave a lil' review! Always nice to read your reactions ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and/or favourited/followed! I'm still so glad people like this story...!**

 **So I was late with this chapter... and right now it's pretty darn late over here. I should be in bed now. Dammit, I have school tomorrow... BUT I had a blast of inspiration and I couldn't just let that go to waste, so here it is, I managed to finish this thing after all!**

 **I hope you'll like this chapter!**

* * *

Early in 1916 already, the German army had a lot to endure. In February, a battle that came to be known as the Battle of Verdun started, one that would last for the majority of the year. Initial attacks were successful for the Germans, but their offensive slowed down considerably soon after. In March, Prussia fought with the German Tenth Army at Lake Naroch, a battle that lasted almost 2 weeks. The French had requested this attack, hoping that the Germans would send reinforcements to the East so that they wouldn't be as focused on the Battle of Verdun against the French anymore. It didn't work out that way, and the battle ended in yet another German victory on the Eastern Front. Neither the French nor the Russians gained anything from this offensive.  
In the weeks and months that followed, the Battle of Verdun raged on, soon establishing itself as one of the worst battles fought so far in the Great War. In June, another battle started on the Eastern Front. This time the Russian Empire fought not only the German Empire, but also Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman Empire simultaneously. Once again the plan was to get the German army to send reinforcements to the East and stagnating their offensive in Verdun, and this time they succeeded. Fighting two such major battles simultaneously turned out to be a great strain on the German forces. Austria-Hungary was fighting on the Italian Front as well, thus also unable to completely focus on the Brusilov Offensive. Despite suffering extremely heavy losses, the Russian Army defeated the Central Powers 2 months later, in September.  
But Verdun and Brusilov weren't the only great and lethal battles fought in that time period. As Prussia was fighting in the East, Germany was fortunate enough not to be fighting in Verdun at that time; he had participated in that battle from March to April and was then called away to work on strategies once more and gather reports on the battles that were going on.  
It was certainly lucky that by July, he was working in Berlin.

Germany had just been able to take a break after a long discussion with Chief of General Staff, Falkenhayn, who had succeeded Von Moltke in 1914. Because of the long offensive and heavy losses in Verdun, his entire body had been sore for weeks, he was starting to feel shaky, and he just felt bad in general. It was getting worse now.  
He knew that his soldiers near the river Somme had been attacked by combined French and British forces that morning, and though they didn't have too much official information on it yet, he could tell that it wasn't going too well, to put it mildly. Most of all he could feel the muscles in his shoulders and back gradually tensing to the point that he felt like they had magically transformed into metal plates. Any movement, however minor, hurt terribly, and even if he kept himself still as a statue, no position he could possibly sit or stand in was even close to comfortable. Better yet, nothing seemed to be even slightly _bearable.  
_ He just kept as still as possible through the whole thing, hoping to limit the pain if getting rid of it was impossible. It felt like ages that he stood there, focusing on his breathing, trying to think about other things –it didn't even have to make sense, just so long as it wasn't about pain or discomfort. In the end, it must've taken a long time indeed, though the fortnight that it felt like was a complete exaggeration. Probably.  
Other people approached him, and it was only when they said told him the meeting had started again an hour ago already that he realised he'd been standing there for two hours. Still, just now he couldn't care less that the meeting had started again and he was late. "Forgive me," he said in a strained voice, "but I'm not moving. Tell them to go on without me."  
The two humans didn't leave, staring at him for a moment and then glancing at each other before looking back at him. "Are you… are you all right, sir?" one of them asked tentatively.  
Germany scoffed at this stupid question. "Tell me," he muttered angrily, unable to speak any louder than he was, really. "Would you willingly stand as a fucking statue for hours on end, if you were doing _all right_?" Why did they have to talk to him now? If they left him alone, he could concentrate on blocking out the pain much more easily. He was starting to feel faint, and they weren't helping.  
But they were adamant on staying there now, trying to figure out what was happening. Eventually one of them stammered nervously: "Sir, are you aware that you're… bleeding?"  
Those words both shocked Germany and didn't surprise him at all. He could've seen this coming, but he hadn't noticed it at all yet. "Am I?" he huffed, his breathing shallow. "That's not good…"  
"It's bad," the other human said, his voice quivering. "The stain's on your shoulders; the whole width of them." He stood stunned just a second longer, then seemed to shake off his shock in a heartbeat. "Dammit, it's spreading too quickly –we need to get him help fast!"  
Germany didn't respond anymore; he could feel his clothes stick to his shoulders now as they were soaked in blood. It stung. Meanwhile the faintness only got worse with the second. At this rate he wasn't going to last much longer. He knew he wouldn't.  
In fact, the last thing he remembered of that day, 1 July, was that the pain suddenly flared up a million times worse.

* * *

Prussia was tired. He hadn't been fighting anymore for several days now, instead sent to rest in Königsberg. The battles were long and draining, the economy didn't make it much easier on him. He was a bit feverish at the moment, but most of all he just had no stamina left.  
He grunted when the telephone rang. With a sigh the kingdom got to his feet and staggered over to the phone. "Shut the fuck up," he muttered to the thing; its ringing was giving him a headache. When he picked up, he was only halfway through grumbling a greeting when he was interrupted bluntly.  
"Falkenhayn speaking," the other person said quickly, surprising the Prussian. What he said next only transformed the surprise into full-blown panic. "I thought you'd appreciate it if I informed you that Germany has been admitted into hospital." Prussia's heart seemed to stop at that moment, and he struggled to still follow the rest of what the human was telling him. "The combination of the Battle of Verdun and the one that commenced this morning, near the Somme, proved to be too much for him; he lost a considerable amount of blood, but due to a successful transfusion, he's stabilised now."  
Prussia felt dizzy, more so than before that is, as he listened to it. Germany had been that badly injured? He should have known about it. Why didn't he feel what happened at the Western Front, not as much as he should? For as long as the war had lasted, he could only really feel the Eastern Front, and Germany seemed to feel the Western Front most. Maybe that was why they had been sent to those areas specifically; once it was clear that the battles against Russia affected Prussia most, and those against France and the UK did Germany, they had been split up.  
 _How is that even relevant now?_ he scolded himself, listening when Falkenhayn said more. "He'll be allowed to go home again in a couple of days, but it would be irresponsible to leave him alone just yet. We expect you back in Berlin tomorrow, understand?" That was all he said. He hung up on Prussia without a word more.  
The kingdom stood there for a little while, frozen on the spot. His little brother… Of course he would be there for him. Feeling numb, Prussia put the phone down again, taking a moment to try and relax. It didn't work. His heart racing and his mind swimming, he dashed up the stairs, tripped halfway up, scrambled to his feet again and went on to his room again, packing only the bare necessities; mostly important papers and reports, his wallet too. He would have to pay for that blasted train somehow. Then he ran out of his house, to the train station. If he was quick, he could still catch the last train of the day.

* * *

The next morning, Prussia stumbled into hospital. Through sheer luck, someone in the lobby recognised him immediately. He recognised the human about half a minute later, when the man was already leading him through the corridors to the room where Germany was.  
His little brother was awake when he walked in, though 'alert' would maybe be an overstatement. Still, Germany looked up the moment Prussia entered, something flashing in his eyes. "Brother?" He sounded almost confused. "You… look awful."  
Prussia halted, staring back at him in silence for a moment. He _felt_ awful. But he just cracked a grin. "So do you. We sure are brothers, aren't we?" Germany didn't respond, only huffed with some traces of a smirk on his lips. Prussia sat down beside him, and they were both quiet for a moment, unsure what to say. Prussia fidgeted a bit, taking a deep breath. "So how are you feeling?" he eventually just asked. There was so much more he wanted to talk about, but now might not be the best time for that.  
It didn't surprise him when Germany sighed. "Sore," he answered in a soft voice. "Tired, too, but I suppose that's normal." The younger nation looked at Prussia then, inspecting him quietly. He sighed again after some time. "What about you? It wasn't a joke when I said you look terrible."  
"I just didn't get much sleep last night, travelling this way," the kingdom answered, smiling sheepishly. He was so exhausted. But Germany mattered more right now. He would suffer this discomfort every single day if it was to help his little brother.  
But Germany didn't think the same thing. "Go home," he said briskly, shaking his head disapprovingly. "I'll be fine on my own here, you know I will. Get some rest first, will you?"  
Prussia shook his head. "No, not with you here," he protested, staring wide-eyed at his little brother. How could he even suggest that? Of course Prussia would stay here with him! Wasn't that only logical? He had to, it was his duty as the elder brother. "Someone has to stay and look after you."  
"Have you looked at where I am?" Germany asked flatly, clearly not amused. "If I won't be looked after in a _hospital,_ I won't be looked after _anywhere._ They're almost as bad as you are here, overprotective and constantly making a fuss about things. Honestly, it annoys me more than anything." He sighed yet again, looking at the ceiling for a moment, his blue eyes a bit dull. "Falkenhayn will be coming in again, too, I was told. Wilhelm, too. It's not like I'll be alone, either, is what I'm saying. And honestly, I just want to sleep! So go, get some rest, eat a bit, whatever you need to do to feel better."  
Still, Prussia shook his head. But he smiled warmly at his younger brother as he did. "If you want to sleep, then do so," he told him gently. "But I'm not leaving yet. I can't. If it was me in that bed, would you be able to leave?" Germany didn't answer, and Prussia smiled a bit more at this. Then he leant forward and carefully hugged him, letting go only when he felt Germany pat him on the shoulder softly.  
The young empire was staring straight into his eyes, gaze blank. But then his lips twitched into a smile, and there was something of a twinkle in his eyes. "You stubborn idiot," he mumbled. "Fine then, but at least get something to eat, all right? I think there's a baker across the street. Do at least that for me, okay? Take care of yourself, too."  
Prussia nodded, getting up already. He was indeed quite hungry, so this was something he could live with. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Before leaving the hospital, Prussia had asked if he was allowed to eat in the room where Germany lay, and since he was, that was where he sat with his late breakfast. That consisted only of a single bun with some cheese, which was unlike him according to Germany; the empire reminded Prussia that the elder nation loved good food and never turned down an opportunity to have a more special meal than the few simple things he could cook himself. In response to this, Prussia just huffed and stated that he was too awesome to waste resources during a war, be it money or food that was 'meant for the people', as he said it. Right after saying that, he carefully suppressed the bile that rose in his throat, hoping Germany didn't notice that.  
Falkenhayn, who had arrived by then, just inspected the conversation between the two brothers with a blank expression. When he got tired of it, he just cleared his throat loudly. "Can we get on to the more serious matters now, you two?" he grumbled. He turned to Germany first. "I spoke with the surgeon who fixed up your shoulders, Germany; he says you should stay at least another three days, to give your skin some more time to restore itself before you start tearing that wound open again." Germany nodded, silent. He'd known that already, and considering that the wound had been bone-deep in some areas over his shoulder blades, it was a wise decision. Then the human looked at Prussia instead, who sat with his lips pressed together tightly. "After that, he'll be under your care. I'm sure the doctors will repeat this for you, but these are the rules: he shouldn't lift his arms more than elbow-height for the first week, no higher than shoulder-height for another week, so any work around the house will be left to you, obviously. I know of your medical skills, so you'll get a small supply of medicinal alcohol and needles and stitching thread, should the stitches still tear. However, do _not_ think your own work will be sufficient if such a thing occurred; patch him up where necessary, then get a professional to make sure you haven't screwed it up. You got that?"  
Prussia, still silent, nodded slowly. His silence seemed to dissatisfy the human, but he wouldn't open his mouth now; Falkenhayn was already saying more, anyway.  
"We also expect you to report to us frequently about the state of things."  
"Is that really necessary?" Germany sighed, looking agitated by now. "I'm not dying, for Heaven's sake. It's bad enough to know that, going by those rules about not lifting my arms more than a damn inch, even getting dressed will be a two-man job. Also, will you not underestimate my brother? I would trust him with a needle and thread even if my entire arm had been chopped off; he's good enough to fix _that_ , even."  
Falkenhayn didn't really like that comment, but he only sighed deeply and looked back at Prussia again. He seemed even more displeased then. "Are you even still paying attention, Prussia?" he demanded irritably. The albino didn't respond this time, his gaze focused on a certain point on the floor, it seemed. Germany noticed that he was looking paler than before, and he'd already been pale even by his standards. Falkenhayn seemed to either not notice that, or he chose to ignore it. Germany was too tired to start arguing with the general now, so he kept quiet, but when the human got angrier yet, the young nation had an eerily vivid idea where this was going.  
"One would think you'd be more interested in your brother's well-being," Falkenhayn snapped at Prussia, who flinched. "Enough at least to pay attention when-!"  
The kingdom made the mistake of replying to this. Attempting to do so, anyway. "I am int-!" he protested, fierce and angry but cut off just a second later, when he hastily clasped a hand over his mouth. What little traces of colour were still left in his face drained in a heartbeat as he lunged for the trashcan that stood somewhere between him and the door. Much as Germany had seen this coming just now, he still grimaced when Prussia threw up what seemed to be all the contents of his stomach.  
Falkenhayn, too, grimaced for a moment, then sighed. "Oh, for the love of God, you've got to be kidding me…" He seemed at a total loss when Prussia, who had just had a moment to catch his breath, threw up again. Apparently there was still something left in his body that could be gotten rid of.  
The albino couldn't suppress a soft moan after that; this had almost purely been stomach acids, and it burnt. "Damn," he complained softly, gasping for breath. "That… shit, that hurt…" So much for breakfast, then. He'd gone for something simple specifically because he'd feared this might happen, but it hadn't been simple enough yet, clearly. He looked up almost guiltily when Falkenhayn spoke again.  
The human was clearly at his wits' end right now, seeing now that not one, but both of his nations were in no state. "Just… forget everything I just said, Prussia," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in pure frustration. "I'll arrange for someone else to make sure Germany doesn't overdo anything once he's home again. To look after you, too, because… For Heaven's sake…"  
But Prussia shook his head. "Some back-up when Ludwig's home again would be appreciated," he breathed hoarsely, his throat sore after vomiting up stomach acid like that. "But I'll be fine on my own, sir, I swear."  
The human refused to hear any of it. "Maybe right now you're at the stage that you'd be all right by yourself, but we all know that the Russians are doing a number on our troops, too. You might yet get injured as well, and then where would we be if we left you alone with Germany? In his own current state, he could hardly help you if that happened. Also…" He trailed off for a moment, inspecting Prussia a bit; the kingdom was shaking lightly after this brief but very unpleasant ordeal, his breathing still laboured. The general's distress over the situation was clear when he stated: "Were it not that you'd never be admitted into hospital over something like this, Prussia, I'd advise you to stay here for the night. For now, however, I'll arrange for someone to take you home and stay with you there at least until the evening; if it turns out you can't keep anything down later on, either, it would be best to have you checked out here, after all. We can't afford to have you get dehydrated or suffer from malnutrition or anything of the likes. Do me a favour and go to straight to bed when you get home." With a deep sigh, the human got up, looked at the two brothers for a moment longer, then wished them both a speedy recovery before leaving, muttering to himself about having to find someone who would be willing to play taxi driver _and_ nurse for Prussia.  
When he was gone, Prussia looked up at Germany, feeling ashamed. "I'm not leaving you here, Ludwig," he still said to him, sounding pathetic, in his own opinion. "I'll stay with you, sick or not."  
"Please don't," Germany grunted, grimacing at the mere idea of it. "I don't want you puking all over me while you're here. Also, _please,_ I told you about an hour ago that you should just go home and get some rest. Here's the proof that I was right." When Prussia wanted to protest once more, Germany added more softly: "I also told you before that I just want to sleep. I feel like shit after yesterday… I'll make it on my own, don't worry. Just rest, try and eat something again once your stomach has settled down. Please?"  
Prussia nodded, carefully getting up before sitting back down on the chair he'd used earlier again, stating that at least he wasn't leaving until his ride home arrived to abduct him. Germany could live with that, the younger of the two brothers said with a sigh and a wry smile. But as he sat there, talking softly with his little brother, who was now clearly as tired as he claimed to be, he felt so ashamed of himself.  
 _Even when I try to be a good brother again,_ he sighed to himself, _and even when Ludwig has just gone through something horrible and I should be there for him…  
I'm such a failure._

* * *

Over the days that followed, Prussia didn't get any better, if not worse. His stress about Germany only served to make him feel even worse, and that his troops were losing a battle while the economy was pretty much in tatters compared to what it had been just 2 years prior certainly didn't help either. Someone in the government had found a volunteer to stay in the nations' home now and help when needed; the daughter of a friend of his. Prussia didn't like her being there. She was kind and helpful, that wasn't the problem, but he hated it nonetheless. His leaders had basically told him that he was too weak and stupid to look after himself by sending that girl to look after him and, from tomorrow onward, Germany also.  
When she had first lain eyes on the kingdom, who had been having a bad headache at the time and had been rather feverish too, the human had asked him with some confusion if he really was Prussia. He'd laughed dryly and answered: "Sure am. Not what you expected, am I?" He'd scoffed, too. He had been taking care of himself for centuries, and he really didn't like this at all.  
The girl, who had then introduced herself as Monika, just smiled at him. She clearly knew that he was irritated over how he felt at that moment, even more over appearing weak. "I'm here specifically because both you and Germany need help now –something which is only natural, sir, and there's no shame in any of it," she told him gently. "I couldn't and didn't expect much else than you being as sick as I was told you are, sir. What I meant was more… Well, I'm honoured to meet you."  
He had certainly not seen that coming.

That first day hadn't been such an assault on Prussia's pride yet; the only thing Monika did aside from being a conversation partner, was cooking in the evening. He could live with that. It was the next day that was the worst, when he woke up not just 'feverish', but basically being a walking furnace. That's when the girl decided not to listen to his protests anymore, remind him every time he claimed to be fine that he could hardly stand and was therefore far from fine. But then, Prussia wasn't nearly alert enough to be as annoyed as he could've been. He spent most of the morning and early afternoon asleep, after all, so he was hardly aware of anything that was going on. He just knew that the more he rested now, the sooner he would recover, and maybe he would be feeling better by the time Germany came home again.  
He remembered from the few small conversations they'd had when Prussia had been semi-awake or more, that the young human admired him for some reason. If she had told him where that admiration came from, he was ashamed to admit he couldn't remember any of it. That second day was a blur to him for the majority of it.

And the third day of this madness, now, at least the kingdom was indeed doing somewhat better, though still worse than on the day that he arrived in Berlin. It was awkward during breakfast to have that human girl around; for decades now, it had been only him and Germany. Before that it had been only him for even more decades. Honestly, he'd lived either alone or with his little brother for a century now. And before that, he had always been more involved with the men more than the women. In short, he hadn't been alone with a girl for this long since Brandenburg had died 212 years ago. Even if it was only temporary, even if she was basically a housekeeper right now, it would take some getting used to for sure.  
He'd remembered from random titbits of conversations that Monika was 17 years old, the middle of 3 sisters in her family, that her elder sister had taken over her father's work in a factory since a year, 3 of her brothers were in the army at the moment and another was too young to fight yet. Her father, too, had been in the army, but due to a crippling injury that he had been lucky enough to survive, he was back home now; he'd lost a leg a couple of months ago. It was the first thing Prussia heard about the situation at home, with the regular citizens, of which the majority had family at the Front. What Monika's sister had done, taken on a job that was mainly done by men, was a common thing: with so many men at the Fronts, it was up to their young sons and the women to make sure the economy wouldn't collapse entirely. They did the farming, they produced goods, they kept the industries running. It was a clear sign that his body hadn't exaggerated for a second yet, reacting this badly to the state of things, and neither had Germany's when the young empire had gotten sick earlier that year. Despite that knowledge, though, Prussia felt proud of each and every one of these people. Grateful, too, knowing that if they wouldn't do any of this, not only their situation would have been a lot more dire, but he and his little brother, too, would have been a lot worse off than they were now. This story also served to make him pray for a quick end to this war every single day, though. Preferably a good end, a victory for them, but that it would be quick was the main thing.  
All awkwardness aside, he did enjoy having some company now.

Prussia went to visit Germany again at around noon, apologising for not having been there the day before and explaining why. Germany had stopped him in the middle of it, telling his elder brother that he'd figured as much, also remarking on how Prussia still looked too sick to be here in the first place. Needless to say, within minutes he'd managed to get the albino to promise that he wouldn't stay much longer than an hour. After that, Prussia got an opportunity to check the wound Verdun and the Somme had left on his little brother: a deep, wide line ran over the entire width of his shoulders, looking as gruesome as Prussia had feared. At least the stitching looked neat, bringing hope for a neat, better-looking scar in the future at least.  
Germany sighed as he lay back down –clearly he hated not being allowed to move around much, something Prussia could relate to all too well. Still, the younger nation seemed bothered about something more than that. "I can't come home yet tomorrow," he mumbled reluctantly, frowning a little. "The economy hit last night, and… Well, they don't want to send me away when the wound still isn't fully healed _and_ I've got a blasted fever –a mild one compared to you, really. That, and the coughing is another reason to keep an eye on me as of yet, they told me. That movement's not exactly the best thing if your skin's been split in half just days ago, it seems. Well… you know."  
Prussia didn't know how to respond to that. He had hoped with all his heart that nothing would happen to stop Germany from being allowed home again. But having seen the injury that had landed the empire in hospital just now, he had already come to the conclusion that it would be foolish to let him go home tomorrow already.  
Germany saw his brother's disappointment, naturally. "It'll only be for a day longer or so," he assured the Prussian, and likely himself too. "Until the fever's gone and the cold's under control. I'll be home before the week ends." Prussia only nodded and forced a smile. Then, after some silence, Germany cracked a grin as well. "So how's life with a caretaker, hm?"  
Prussia chuckled for a moment, wondering whether he should be amused or annoyed at the obvious mockery in his brother's voice. "Not as bad as I feared," he admitted reluctantly. "It does come in handy, considering what I was like yesterday. But she's a bit too… over the top? She seems to think I'm not even capable of making coffee myself."  
Germany smirked a bit. "Well, she's treating you as she should, then," he replied calmly. "You're the one who's overestimating himself all the time. Make use of the opportunity and really take the time you need to recover. Just… don't traumatise the poor thing." His eyes twinkled mischievously as he said that, and Prussia couldn't help but snicker at the idea. "What are the odds of finding someone who would willingly play nurse and housekeeper for an idiot like you?"  
"This is probably the only person in the entire nation, if not the world," Prussia agreed, still wondering what had happened that someone would _not_ avoid him at all costs.  
They talked a bit more, until Germany sent Prussia away again. Peeved over this, Prussia went home again. Thinking about it, he probably had something to do there, anyway; he hadn't exactly washed since a day before leaving Königsberg. A shower would be a good idea.

* * *

So why did this war and its effects love to contradict him? Of course something else would come to bother him, as he was taking a shower of all moments. He was dizzy, which was already a bother. Then there was the godforsaken battle, which had decided to cut him in the ankle, which was quite a bit painful. When he saw the blood mix with the water on the floor, he sighed, turned off the shower and stepped out from under it. But of course, that injury in the ankle combined with the dizziness got him onto his knees. He sighed again, waiting for his head to stop swimming before he would try standing up.  
And of course: "Prussia, sir? Are you all right?"  
Prussia grunted. _Can't she leave me alone?_ "Perfectly fine, now go… do something else." Determined to prove to himself as much as to that human that he'd told the truth, he heaved himself to his feet again. Well, he got halfway before giving up, anyway. Maybe just a minute or so longer, then he would try again.  
The kingdom's heart skipped a beat when the door opened, and he sat rigid for a moment. "Did I not just tell you to leave?"  
"You did." Prussia heard some rummaging.  
"And is it not the most logical thing in the world that one does _not_ barge into a bathroom when someone's using the shower or anything?"  
"Possibly."  
"So how did you not translate all that into 'get the fuck out'?" He was just about done with this now. That girl would be kicked out today, whether or not she was quite possibly the only soul in the entire world who would volunteer to be in the same house as Prussia, of all nations, without being related to him. This was crossing the line a thousand times with a single action. The end. She was out.  
But then he got a towel tossed over his shoulders from behind, which he instantly wrapped around himself, covering up as much as he could. Hell, any last sliver of dignity he could still salvage, he would.  
"I'm sorry for having been so rude, sir," Monika apologised immediately. "But you sounded anything but 'fine', and…" She trailed off for a moment, kneeling on the floor beside him and suppressing a soft sigh. She didn't even look at him as she asked: "Why are you so against having other people help you in any way? N-not to say that it's wrong to be angry over my barging in just now, anyone would be, of course. But it's just… You help so many people. Why can't they help you in return?"  
Prussia didn't comprehend a word of it. Confused, he stared at her, his anger and embarrassment long forgotten already. "Me, helping people?" he asked hoarsely. "In what universe? Out on the battlefield I'm a killing machine, which may be beneficial politically speaking, but it's hardly being a good person and helping others. Outside the battlefield I mainly develop strategies that help kill people. Helping, you say? And when I'm doing none of those," he added with dry laughter, thinking back to the past few days, "I'm the most useless, shit brother the world has ever seen, not even able to help his little brother when he's needed!" He really was a failure. A killer and a failure. So much for being awesome, then.  
The human shook her head. "That's not what my father wrote about you," she said softly, sounding almost choked up with emotions right now, though Prussia could hardly tell what emotions they were. "He wrote to us many times, and in many of those letters, he spoke highly of you; how you never failed to encourage your soldiers, you healed so many injuries… You saved my father's life."  
Prussia's mind went blank when the girl said that. He had? Well, yes, he had worked as a medic during his time at the Front as well, as he had promised years ago that he would. He had saved a few people's lives, that was true… Now that she mentioned it, he did remember a man whose leg needed to be amputated. He stayed in the trench by his side, until he was stable enough to be transported back home by train. That was probably the same man, Monika's father.  
"You see, sir," the girl went on in a soft voice. "My family owes you more than we could ever repay. So when I heard that you could use some help, well, it seemed only right that I would do my best to repay that debt."  
Prussia stared at her for a moment, not sure what to say. He looked away again. "If I know how to treat injuries like that," he replied with a shrug, "isn't it… isn't that just doing my job? Anyone with the knowledge and skill would do so, it's… it's nothing special." But then, he did understand her. He would've done anything for a person, if that person had been able to save Brandenburg all those years ago, or Holy Rome or Saxony.  
When Monika looked at him, he couldn't keep his eyes on the floor any longer and met her gaze. She was smiling, carefully so, but really smiling. "It's not the only thing, though," she told him. "And my father isn't the only person to think so highly of you. He told us that every soldier in your corps, sir, respected you a lot. You gave them hope; a man who was both superhuman in strength and endurance, and human in his compassion. I'm more than honoured to be of any help to a man like that." She fell silent for a moment, and Prussia thought she had said all she had to say. He couldn't wrap his head around it. He knew he had been respected for his skill in battle, everyone always had. Very few people, to his knowledge, had ever looked further than the warrior. They'd never bothered to look for the person. Now he was being told that nearly all his soldiers had not only been _looking_ for the person, but had actually _seen_ him and still respected him? Even better: they respected him all the more for it? That was a first.  
But then the girl said one more thing to top it all off: "Father said that, to him and to many, you were a godsend gift for your troops. Like an archangel sent to help them live through Hell, until they could return to their lives."  
 _Demon._  
That was all he had ever heard.  
 _Monster. Devil. Evil. Murderer.  
Demon.  
Angel.  
_There were some fights that even a seasoned soldier like him, a god of war incarnate, could never hope to win. This was one of them, it seemed, for he simply could not fight the few, grateful tears that welled up in his eyes now. He clenched his jaws tight to prevent himself from making any sounds, but he couldn't just stay quiet after this.  
It was definitely the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to him, right next to the rare few times he'd heard the words 'I love you'.  
So he wasn't a failure at all? Despite not being able to be there for people when he wanted to be, or being able to help others as much as he wished he could, or even just being what he used to be and still wanted to be…  
He… wasn't a failure…  
"Thank you…"

* * *

 **So... he deserved to for once hear that he's _not_ an evil killing machine.  
Also, if you're wondering, no. Monika won't be back. (And yes, I did name her after nyo-Germany. Shame on me for the lack of creativity there). Or at least, if she will be mentioned again or anything of the likes, just know that I did not create her as shipping material. No worries.  
**

 **So I'm off to catch whatever sleep I still can now... I hope you liked the chapter, and thanks so much for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed/favourited!**

 **Yup, still busy. Deadlines in school, homework, but also that I'm turning 18 next month and that means having to get insurances and all that... wheeeee... I can't wait for the year to end. 2017 should be easier than these last few months are (I hope)**

 **So yeah, don't expect regular updates until January (forgive me!) I will update whenever I finish a chapter, but y'know, real life should always come first (I wish it didn't...)**

 **Anyways, I hope you'll like this chapter!**

* * *

"And so you did what?"  
It was February 1917, and both Prussia and Germany were at a meeting to discuss tactics with the General Staff. Neither of the two had been back at the Fronts since they'd left the year before. The grave injury Germany had sustained due to the Battles of the Somme and Verdun had healed, having left only a long scar with some ragged edges. Prussia had been sick for another week before recovering a bit more. Still, for both of the nations, the economy was a constant, nagging presence. It seemed to pull them down again whenever they thought they were feeling better and it seemed to actually be trying to keep them both from doing anything useful: Germany had at one point thought about returning to the battlefield, feeling guilty that he was at home 'doing nothing' while his people were dying gruesome deaths out there. It hadn't taken more than a day or two after that for a fever to hit him hard.  
The Brusilov Offensive in the east had in turn left scars on Prussia; physically he'd gained a new silver line to decorate his back with, which looked like a failed art project after a life of warfare, and mentally this loss against the Russians had been a blow to his pride. To lose against an army and, by extent, and entire nation on the verge of collapse was something he could not comprehend. That was _his_ job, he was the one to work miracles like that. The Seven Years' War had been proof of that much at least.  
It was safe to say that, by now, the two brothers were as tired of this war as their people were, who were becoming increasingly discontented with the state this war left the economy in. There was a shortage of food that was only increasing, there was a shortage of workers everywhere, and no hope for improvement anytime soon.  
Now the General Staff had made a decision that Prussia had serious doubts about. Until an incident where they'd sunk an American ship with civilians on it, they'd had a policy of unrestricted submarine warfare, which was meant to weaken the United Kingdom most of all. After this incident, they'd put an end to that, hoping that they could avoid conflict with the USA on top of their numerous enemies that they already had to deal with. Now they were reinstating that type of warfare, basically out of despair and panic, because it would be a serious blow to the United Kingdom and might just be enough to force them out of the war completely. But because of that, they risked attracting attention from America again. To top it off? Well, they had also encouraged Mexico to start a war with the United States and promised to aid them if they did so, to keep America distracted if they would declare war on the German Empire after all.  
Which, naturally, was another reason for the Americans to seriously consider meddling in European affairs and join this war. According to their estimations, the American army would take more time to prepare than it would take to defeat the UK, but such estimations had already proven to be false way back in 1914, when the Russians had attacked much sooner than they had believed to be possible.  
Needless to say, Prussia was unsure whether to be enraged or just astonished by how stupid and short-sighted humans could sometimes be. "You dumb fucks."  
It wasn't surprising that the humans didn't appreciate being called this. Von Hindenburg, the new Chief of Staff after Falkenhayn lost that position the year before, seemed especially angry. "If you disagree, Prussia," he said with an edge to his voice, "then there are plenty of better ways to express that." He then cleared his throat and pushed that annoyance and anger away. "Let's also look at the bright side; with the revolution in Russia at the moment, we can expect them to pull out of the war any moment now. Let's not forget, the Tsar was the only one who still wanted to fight, and he's out of the picture now, together with the other Romanovs. If everything goes according to plan, whoever ends up in charge will call for a retreat." Something glinted in his eyes, and one corner of his lips twisted into a tiny smirk as he added more softly: "And if not, we're already taking care of another incentive for them to do so. Are you familiar with one mister Ulyanov?"  
Germany was the one to answer, eyes narrowed a bit in both recognition of the name and confusion. "It does ring a bell," he said carefully, not sure what this was about. "But I can't say I remember who he is or what he has to do with any of this." Prussia had to agree. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't remember anything about the man that was relevant now.  
Hindenburg soon explained. "He was one of those socialists giving Europe trouble a decade or so ago. Bolsheviks, they called themselves. He is currently on exile in Switzerland, but we've promised him safe passage back into Russia together with his family and others, on the condition that when he seizes power –for this is a case of when, not if- he will make an end to Russian participation in this war. Just as his people will want him to."  
"And when that happens," Germany went on for himself, having figured out the plan now, "we can focus entirely on the Western Front, with the Russians out of the way. With naval warfare back in the shape we had it in until '15, we can deal some serious blows to the United Kingdom. We can almost certainly count on Ireland to give them trouble again as well –I'm certain his rebellion last year won't be his last attempt to become independent."  
Prussia couldn't help but correct his little brother on that. "We can't rule out the possibility that the Irish will rebel again, but we shouldn't count on it: the rebel leaders have all been executed. They will need time to reorganise."  
Germany nodded, agreeing that maybe he'd been a bit too optimistic there. "There's no war with America yet, though we'd do good to prepare for it." He then turned to look at Prussia, his gaze free of worry. "Long story short, brother, I'd say it's too early to declare this a disaster yet."  
Prussia didn't respond to that, only met his brother's gaze silently. Then he sighed, listening to the rest of the meeting. But all the while, a worrying though gnawed at his heart and mind. _The Russian people have risen in revolution because of their discontentment,_ a voice kept telling him. _Because they refuse to go hungry any longer, because they're desperate and long for better days._ The next thing that voice told him sent a cold shiver down his spine. _Our people are hungry, desperate and discontented and they want a way out of this situation._ It was only a matter of time now.

But at the end of the meeting, his mood was brightened again when the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Arthur Zimmerman, approached the two nations, telling them that he had some news to share. "As you must know, it's difficult to get information from other Foreign Ministers across Europe in this war," he began calmly, "but I've recently received a message from mister Balfour of the United Kingdom; it should please you both to know that Scotland's blindness has proven to be a temporary effect of the chlorine. I do not know to which extent his eyes have healed, but whether his sight is good or bad, he can at least see again."  
Prussia's own heart fluttered in joy and surprise at this wonderful news, and beside him he saw Germany's gaze brighten in a heartbeat. "Are you certain?" he asked the human, voice quivering with sheer relief. "He can really see again?"  
Zimmerman nodded with a tiny smile on his lips. "Whatever damage was caused by you, Germany, must have been minor enough to only prolong his healing process, not prevent it completely. You have done nothing to deserve the blame for what happened to him, we're certain of that now."  
It was as if a burden fell off the young empire when he heard that, one with the weight of the world, and it overjoyed Prussia to see that almost as much as it did to know that his friend was all right. He'd never talked about it much, as he didn't want to give Germany a reason to feel even more guilty over what had happened, but of course he'd felt terrible about what had happened in 1915. Scotland was a good man who wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it, and he'd always been a good friend to Prussia. He didn't deserve any of what had happened. To know that it wasn't permanent was perhaps the best news Prussia had heard in a long time.

* * *

German troops started retreating in February that year. They didn't give up the fight yet, but losses forced them back. At least on the Eastern Front things were going well. There were no major battles there in early 1917, not for the German troops. Austria-Hungary fought more than they did. This of course gave Prussia a much-needed opportunity to recover a bit, despite the Provisional Government in Russia refusing to retreat.  
Germany wasn't so lucky, with more battles being fought on the Western Front and America declaring war on 6 April. It didn't look as if the UK would go down as easily as they had hoped in spite of the increased naval warfare, either. In the end, it seemed Prussia had been right.  
One such battle that the British Army won was the Battle of Arras, although the British suffered greater losses than the Germans did. At around the same time though, the German Army won another battle against the French and Russian troops in France, the Second Battle of Aisne. But there were heavy losses there, too. By now, every loss was a tough one.

Sleeping was tough, too. Germany couldn't remember the last time he'd slept well without any interruptions. This night wasn't like that, either.  
He knew that he was dreaming at that moment. Images and sounds flashed through his mind too quickly to keep track off, but not quick enough to ignore what he saw; mangled bodies, corpses scattered across fields, disfigured soldiers as a result of terrible injuries. Wet, cold trenches. Life in them was almost as bad as walking over the battlefield toward enemy lines with a target drawn on your chest would be. It was a matter of time before you got sick, if you were injured you might as well count off the days. Health care was terrible; the soldiers who had worked with Prussia had probably been the most lucky, as he could be very tenacious about using certain procedures that others would pass off as wasteful. The albino would give his last drop of beer for the tiny percentage of alcohol in it to be used as a disinfectant. Still, infections were everywhere, and where blood loss looked like it might be the number one cause of death, it was what came after being injured that ended many lives prematurely.  
Then there was the bombings. That noise, that hellish noise. It surprised Germany that he hadn't gone deaf in the months that he'd spent in trenches. It was always a matter of time until the next attack. You had to be on guard all the time in there, because if you let it slip for just a moment, your enemies would get to you for sure if sickness didn't do so first. They were both protected in trenches and they were like sitting ducks. If the enemy found them, then they were goners. They-  
"Ludwig."  
His heart skipping a beat, Germany sat bolt upright when he heard a voice, ready to defend himself. When your life's one the line, you fight. Even if you know you won't survive, you fight. You can never go down without putting up a fight like that. Going down without retaliating would be like giving up altogether. He would never give up, not so long as he had people to live and fight for.  
Whoever had snuck up on him was paying a hefty price for that, he was making sure of it. He felt no remorse as he gripped the soldier's throat, pressing shut his airways. Remorse would come later. Survival would always have priority over anything else.  
The person who had been about to attack him was choking in his grip, but he wasn't fighting back. Weakling. This one was giving up. No problem if he killed him, then, if he already didn't have the will to fight for his life. The soldier instead stretched out one arm towards Germany, who squeezed his throat harder for it. The man stopped moving, but only for a moment, because then he placed his hand on the side of Germany's face. Just that. Nothing else. Confused, Germany let his grip slacken slightly. His attacker moved his hand now, brushing the empire's hair aside, gently stroking his forehead for a moment. His hand was starting to shake as he ran out of oxygen.  
Just in time, Germany realised he recognised this hand, these fingers that were so calmly trying to pull him out of the lingering terror of his dreams. He recognised the eyes he was staring into; in the darkness, their irises looked to be almost colourless, but he knew that when reflecting light, they would be a bright red.  
Startled out of his skin, he let go immediately, his stomach twisting as Prussia gasped for breath the instant he was released. Germany couldn't move for a moment, his eyes on his brother as the albino, sucking in large gulps of air and coughing a bit, sat up shakily, gingerly rubbing the bruised skin on his throat and neck. "I was right to wake you," he wheezed after some time, chuckling a bit. "You were restless; I've been listening to you tossing and mumbling for over an hour now." Germany didn't respond, still staring at the kingdom wide-eyed. Prussia smiled wryly. "I couldn't sleep either, you see." His voice was a bit stronger again, but still shaky and tight and he was still gasping every few seconds. Then he, too, was quiet for a moment, before leaning closer to Germany. Startled, the younger nation tensed, and Prussia froze mid-movement. "It's okay," he said in a soft, soothing voice. "I'm going to hug you, is that all right? That's all I was going to do just now. There…" He did as he said at that moment, very carefully wrapping his arms around his little brother. Germany still didn't respond. His body wouldn't cooperate with his mind, which, mind you, was also processing all this a lot slower that it usually did. Prussia held him gently. "See? Nothing to worry about."  
Germany sighed then, forcing himself to relax. He leant against Prussia first, then slowly hugged him back, a little tentatively still. They sat in silence for a moment, then the younger nation said in a soft voice: "I'm sorry."  
Prussia only held him a tiny bit closer. "That's okay. I'm still breathing, aren't I? I understand, Ludwig, don't worry." He took a deep breath, and for a moment Germany thought he would let go now. But the albino refused to move away just yet. "This is what war does to a person. I know. I've been there, you know? But I hardly know anything else than war by now, it doesn't affect me quite as badly anymore. But you know, this one freaks even me out sometimes; it's normal for someone to be traumatised by a war this terrible, especially if it's their first."  
"I attacked you…"  
"If you hadn't noticed from my reaction: I expected as much."  
"Doesn't make it any better."  
Prussia sighed before finally letting go of Germany again. Staring his little brother in the eyes, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he decided not to before he even opened his mouth. Instead he shoved further onto Germany's bed, gently pushing the young empire aside to make space. Then he promptly lay down beside him, struggling a bit with the covers until he lay under them too. "Well?" he prompted. "Let's go back to sleep, Ludwig."  
Germany looked down at the pale figure beside him, unsure what to do for a moment. He was still pretty freaked out from his dreams and the fact that he had so fiercely attacked his own brother upon waking up, but this was going a bit overboard. "Brother, I don't-" he began.  
But Prussia shook his head, his eyes already closed. "I told you, I couldn't sleep, either. If not for you, then this is for me. All right?"  
Germany looked down at him a moment longer, then smiled a little. Sneaky bastard. Though it was likely he was telling the truth. Either way, Germany wouldn't send him away now, not when he already looked half-asleep. Not only that, the young empire also owed him one, what with him nearly having choked Prussia to death just now and all that. He would let the Prussian do as he pleased for now.  
So he lay back down, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. Soon Prussia started snoring, and Germany smirked. Typical Prussia…

* * *

By June, the first American troops had arrived.  
They were hardly a fighting force yet, they would need more time to be able to actively take part in the battles, but it was yet another cause for distress.  
Austria and Hungary, both also being in a bad state by now, were staying in Berlin for some time on Prussia's request. Germany had noticed his brother had been acting off for some time already, and for him to invite Austria into his home was the clearest sign Germany could imagine that he wasn't all right.  
One afternoon in July, Germany finally found out what had been on his mind all this time, when Prussia had just come downstairs after having locked himself up in his room for the morning. Dressed in his uniform. Bag over his shoulders.  
The kingdom's expression betrayed nothing as he stated flatly: "I'm heading back. Western Front."  
Germany didn't know how to respond, and Austria and Hungary also seemed to have a hard time to find the right words now. Austria was the first to find his voice. "You dumb fool!" he exclaimed. "And what do you hope to achieve with that, huh?"  
"I have knowledge," Prussia replied calmly, his voice devoid of emotion as much as his eyes were. "I was there when the American army first received actual training. I _gave_ them that training. If their tactics are anything like they were a century ago, I know what to expect. I have immortality, something no other soldier in our ranks has. No one out there, actually, except maybe America, but for him you may refer back to my previous statement. France is out, Belgium is still imprisoned –poor thing- and everyone in the UK is too sick or injured to fight any longer."  
"As are you," Hungary reminded him, her voice hard and stern but her eyes wide with distress. "That's why you're here now, why you've been here for a year!" She jumped up from where she sat beside Germany and with a few quick paces, she stood in front of him, her face practically thrust into his, eyes narrowed angrily. "You cannot fight, dammit. Don't be an over-achiever when you know it's only going to cost you your health; are you really that stupid? I thought you were supposed to be intelligent, but clearly you've lost all common sense."  
Prussia didn't seem too impressed with her fierce response. Instead of what one might expect from someone with a temper like Prussia's, he just sighed, staring her in the eyes. "I'm leaving this evening," the kingdom just informed them. "So that you can't change my mind. I'm not giving you the chance to do so, all right?" He then put his bag down, and whatever he was planning to do next, Hungary stopped him with a rough shove.  
Her green eyes were ablaze with anger. "You're not going _anywhere_!" she yelled at him. Germany was surprised at the amount of emotion in her voice; he hadn't expected her to be so fierce about it, with such clear despair in her voice as there was. And it had also taken Austria by surprise, the young empire saw when he glanced at his cousin briefly. Meanwhile Hungary ranted on. "You're _one man_!" she bellowed at the Prussian, who still managed to keep a straight face somehow. "One man cannot change the course of a war, dammit! You think they need you out there? You'll be a liability. Yet another mouth to feed, yet another casualty that will need patching up. Who knows, perhaps yet another body to count!"  
"Don't exaggerate," Prussia grunted, rolling his eyes in annoyance, the first emotion he showed. "I just said I'm immortal, a fact you yourself established some 700 years ago. I'm not going to die, whatever happens." He pushed her aside then, managing to take only a single step past her before the Hungarian woman yanked him back by his arm. Rage was etched into every inch of her expression.  
Hungary gritted her teeth for a moment, looking as if she could hit him over the head any second now. Instead of doing that, though, she made one last attempt to talk sense into him. "What about Ludwig?" she yelled in his face, and this time part of Prussia's wall broke down; he closed his eyes, brows furrowed a little and the muscles round his jaws tense. Hungary took no notice. "Are you going to just leave him alone? The way things are going, he can't be left all by himself, he won't make it!"  
"That's what you're here for!" Prussia snapped fiercely, making her flinch; she clearly hadn't thought he would finally retaliate. "What, do you think I'd invited you both just for fun? Goddammit, Crazy Woman, you know me well enough to know better. _I don't do fun._ "  
"You used to," Hungary told him in a soft voice, staring him straight in the eyes. "I remember when we used to have fun all the time. I used to look up to you for your intelligence, too; I envied you for it. But somewhere along the line, something in you snapped, hasn't it?" She sounded mocking, and Germany flinched. That was a bad move. Very bad. An angry light shone in Prussia's red irises, intensifying with every word she said. "Because all you've done since, is make reckless, stupid decisions and cause misery to everyone around you. And now here's the icing on the goddamn cake: you go to a battlefield where you know you cannot do shit, leaving your little brother alone in the process, were it not for Austria and me having more sense than you do and staying here with him. Grand job, Gil. You've officially lost your mind."  
Prussia, completely tense now, whipped around to look at Germany. Through the anger in his gaze, the younger nation also saw a silent apology, warmth, despair. Unconditional love. He could relax, seeing those emotions, despite the harsh edge to Prussia's voice as he snapped angrily: "Well, Ludwig? How do you feel about it? Go on, tell us."  
And suddenly, Germany realised why Prussia was doing this. He wanted to protect his little brother. Now of course, the best way to do so right now was to stay with him, and Prussia knew that. But he also had to look after himself. Controversial as it was, Germany knew that his brother still wanted this war somewhere deep inside, in the very back of his mind. With all his heart, he wanted the war to be over, he wanted a chance to live a normal life again and he wanted a way out of this hell like anybody else. With all his heart, he knew that when the war ended, he would lose the distraction he'd had and desperately needed for some years now. When the war would end, he would have to fight his personal battle again; there would be no such thing as a 'normal life' for him after the war, no end to this hell. Only a way back into another one.  
He needed this.  
So Germany only sighed and nodded. He didn't want to say it, but who was he to deny his brother this chance? "Do whatever you want," he told the albino. "If you believe this is for the best, then that's fine with me. Do it."  
Simultaneously, Prussia and Hungary reacted to this; Prussia blinked in gratitude for a moment, his expression softening for just a heartbeat before he grinned cockily, turning to Hungary. "You heard the man-"  
Meanwhile Hungary was tensing now. "If you think that gives you the right to just go off and get yourself blown to pieces-!"  
"-he's all right with it, so stop complaining."  
"-because it doesn't! Goddammit, Gil, you're not going back to the Front!"  
"I'm not going to die, I just told you! Now who's the stupid one, eh?"  
"You will damn well stay here, even if I have to nail you to the floor or chain you to the wall!"  
"Since when do you _care?!_ "  
Germany was seriously regretting his decision at that moment, seeing what came out of it. They were yelling at each other without giving the other a chance to speak without interruptions. It was getting out of hand quickly.  
Hungary looked so ready to punch Prussia just now, Germany was surprised she hadn't done so yet. She only raged on, her voice risen to resemble screaming more than yelling by now. "You will _not_ go back there when the economy is so unstable, you could collapse at any moment! Do you think our so-called immortality will give a damn when you've been shot full of bullets, your lungs are full of poison and you've been blown to smithereens? You'll die, goddammit. You'll die."  
Prussia didn't respond with words anymore. Instead of words, he used a more physical approach. Startled as he was by this, Germany couldn't deny that kissing someone was an effective way of shutting them up. Beside the empire, however, Austria tensed in a heartbeat, clenching his hands into fists. Prussia didn't seem to notice when he pulled back just seconds later, and honestly, he wouldn't have cared if he had. His eyes were cold and his voice even colder when he stared Hungary straight in the eyes, whispering sharply: " _Shut the fuck up already._ " Then he turned to Austria, glaring angrily. "If you dare say even a single word now, Sissy, I swear I'll rip out your tongue."  
Having said that, he reached for his bag again and swung it over his shoulders. The only one he still looked at now was Germany, his red eyes softer again. "I won't come back victorious, I know that," the Prussian said more softly. "But I will come back, I promise. Don't let Crazy Woman scare you into thinking otherwise, it must be that time of the month again for her. All right? Take care of yourself, Ludwig." Then he walked away, leaving the three other nations in stunned silence.

After that silence, Hungary was the first to react yet again. "You goddamn _jerk_!" she yelled after Prussia, even though the younger kingdom likely couldn't even hear her anymore now. She ranted some more in Hungarian, which Germany, with his limited knowledge of the language, couldn't follow. But then, her tone of voice and erratic gestures were sufficient for him to imagine pretty vividly what she was yelling, so it didn't even matter.  
Austria scoffed now, too. "The nerve!" he muttered angrily, gaze turned away from the other two nations. "I have no problem with being here, but if he wanted us to stay here with the specific task of looking after Germany, then he could've told us that beforehand instead of just dropping it on us like this!"  
This comment made something, albeit it something minor, snap inside Germany, and his voice was edged with anger and irritation now, too, when he replied coldly: "Don't worry, you're not needed here; I am plenty capable of looking after myself, if you hadn't noticed yet. Also, Hungary," he added, turning to said nation, who stopped her unintelligible ranting in an instant. "Thank you for chasing him away like that. He said he would've left this evening, but now look what you did! He's gone, and who knows when he'll be back. So really, thanks a lot." He got up then, wordlessly leaving the room. He was planning to go upstairs, make sure he really would have some time to himself, but when he heard Hungary and Austria start arguing, he couldn't bring himself to actually leave. So he stood there for a little while longer, listening.  
"What was that all about?" That was Austria.  
Hungary scoffed. "What do you mean? That I don't want him to get himself into trouble?"  
"You know what his reasons are for this, you know it as well as I do," Austria replied, sounding calm but failing to mask all his frustration. "He did the same sort of thing after Brandenburg, remember? 'You'll die'? Please. You know he won't. So really, what was that?"  
"…Are you kidding me?" came Hungary's voice after a brief silence, of which Germany could sense the tension even from a distance. Her voice was high-pitched, full of disbelief. She sounded livid. "This isn't some sort of… of… jealousy, is it? For Heaven's sake, Roderich! I love you, but sometimes you're insufferable! Gil's my friend and has been for the majority of my life –that's all it was and all it will ever be. So get off my back, dammit."  
Germany sighed. This was probably a good time to walk away, considering he'd missed the first few 'good moments' to do so, the first being the very instant he'd heard them start talking. He really wasn't in the mood for witnessing any more fights of any kind. Truth be told, by now he began to see sense in Prussia's comment of Hungary likely being on her period. It wouldn't surprise him if that were true.  
Once he was alone though, he didn't feel much better. With only his own thoughts to keep him company, his worry about Prussia went through the roof. He was fairly certain he had figured out what reasons his brother had for leaving again so suddenly, but he had no idea to what extent it was because he needed it, in his own weird way, or because he thought he was helping Germany with this. How and why he would think that, the empire had no clue. He'd understand if it was his own personal need for distraction, though he hoped with all his heart that it wasn't so. He just didn't get how this would in any way be for Germany's sake.  
 _How is this helping, when all you're doing is making me worry?_

 _Just… tell me why you went back…_

 _Please._

At the same time, Prussia stood leaning against a wall a few blocks away from his home, eyes fixed on the sky as he took a few deep but careful breaths of a cigarette. Why did Hungary have to make such a problem out of all this? He had wanted to stay until the evening like he'd said, he really had, if only for Germany. But he couldn't stand it anymore, not like that. Why couldn't she see?  
He needed to do what he could to end this war as quickly as possible for Germany's sake. Going out to battle again was the best effort he could make to do so right now; either he would make a difference or something terrible would happen to him and the General Staff would think twice about continuing to fight. Third possibility would be that it would have no effect at all, but he didn't want to think about that.  
This needed to end. It had to. Whenever Prussia closed his eyes, he saw Germany again, tense and jumpy and haunted by memories of battles and horror. He couldn't deal with that anymore. He couldn't watch his precious little brother be so troubled by this war. He had to do something, just anything that might help. The sooner the war was over, the sooner Germany could start recovering.

For himself, though, he dreaded the end of the war. What if he would fall back into the state he'd been in before the war? He couldn't have that. Germany wouldn't be able to cope with it now, either, not when he had so much to deal with himself already. He couldn't go back to looking after Prussia the moment the war ended. What scared Prussia was not knowing what would happen. Maybe he would lose it again, maybe he would keep this dubious balance in his life and mind. He didn't know.

What really scared Prussia… was himself.

* * *

 **So yeah, that's it for this chapter...**

 **I hope Prussia's train of thought there was understandable... somehow. He's finally able to keep himself and his thoughts under control, and he's just terrified of what might happen if the situation goes back to what it was before, when he wasn't in control anymore.**

 **Also, can I just say that what the German army did with the submarine warfare was pretty darn stupid? Just a few years before, they'd had a similar idea: "Oh, but we can beat the French (and Belgians) before the Russians can even mobilise their troops." Nope. Nope, you couldn't.  
"No worries, we can beat the UK before the Americans arrive and can become a threat." Nope. Nope, you couldn't.  
I mean _come on_ , if one such gamble turned out badly for you, is it really a good idea to risk so much on a second, similar gamble later on in the game?**

 **Might just be me and the fact that I know basically nothing of warfare, though. So if it made sense after all, ignore that comment.**

 **Oh well, I hope you liked the chapter, and thank you for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks to Guest and pinkdoughtnuts for the reviews! (And of course to everyone else on earlier chapters, too, I'm a bit lazy to look up usernames lately, sorry)**

 **Well, I managed another one without skipping a week! That's good. Better than I expected.**

 **There's some lightheartedness in this chapter. Not all, of course, but there is. The ending shouldn't be too bad, either, so I won't leave you guys with a nasty last bit until the next chapter yet again. Nope. Not this time.**

 **Anyways, I hope you'll agree on that, and that you'll enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

A year had passed since Prussia had left.  
The war was lost. It hadn't got to that point officially yet, but Germany knew very well that victory was impossible now. They couldn't even hope to win anymore now. All he still hoped for, was an end to this. He was done, he couldn't do this anymore. He just wanted to be able to focus on his people, help them without having to worry about when next he would nearly drop dead with blood loss or sickness or just sheer exhaustion, as he was still hardly able to sleep at night.  
The headaches that were becoming more frequent also didn't make it any easier to be of any use at all to his people; the land was in turmoil and he feared what the outcome would be. And it wasn't just him who was affected this badly. Austria-Hungary was in turmoil too. Well, the two nations were, anyway, amongst each other. They had been falling out more and more lately and two months ago they had even taken to sleeping in separate rooms, though that was over again already. They were out for the day together, another effort to end their fights.  
Germany knew that they were just tense because of the war, that they would probably feel better again once this mess had been cleaned up. Still, he didn't feel too great about them, either. When he first met them, he had been only 4 years old. From that day until this war, he had always thought they were inseparable. They faced everything together like Germany did with Prussia; nothing could ever break them apart.  
But then, this war had defied the odds in everything already, hadn't it? More deaths than anyone had ever thought possible. More participants in the world than he had ever heard of before. In fact, the Great War had turned into a global war by now. A World War.  
The war was still at a stalemate, even with American participation in it now. Still, Germany knew very well that they could never win. No one would ever win this war. In a war this terrible, surely there would be no such thing as a victor? There couldn't be. All of them had lost the moment it had started.  
He was jolted out of those thoughts when the doorbell rang all of a sudden. With a sigh, the young empire got up. Austria and Hungary had probably forgotten the keys again, it wouldn't be the first time. Though that they were back so early wasn't good news; they'd probably had another argument and decided to end the attempt at making up again. Maybe they had split up and this was just Austria or just Hungary. That, too, wouldn't be the first time, unfortunately.  
When Germany opened the door, however, his heart skipped a beat. With exhausted, dull red eyes, Prussia smiled as he looked at his little brother. Germany couldn't move for a moment. He'd thought Prussia would let him know if he was coming home, but he hadn't received any message from him. The Prussian cracked a tired grin. "I couldn't focus anymore," he said in a soft voice, sounding hoarse and breathless. "I decided to go back myself. Though they were all too willing to let me leave again. I think they've been waiting for it for months already."  
After that, Germany was finally able to think again, stepping aside to let his brother in. The albino looked thin, tired, worn out. As he was taking off his coat, which looked just as worn out as its wearer, if not more so, Germany noticed that his brother's hands were covered in scratches; some old, some relatively fresh. Calluses, too. It would probably all heal soon, but it looked painful as of yet. Prussia seemed to be only half aware of everything around him, and he only looked up when Germany was halfway through his question: "You look like you could use a drink. We've got some beer now, shall I get some for you?"  
To his surprise, Prussia shook his head. "If you've got coffee, that would be great, thanks." He looked really out of it just then, but he looked better already just seconds later, when he smiled again. "I'm glad to be home again."  
The younger of the two brothers also smiled a little now and carefully pulled him along, sat him down on the couch and then went to make coffee, talking to him from the kitchen. "I'm glad you're back, too," he told Prussia. His mind was spinning. This had been totally unexpected, but here was one of the few surprises that he could enjoy right now. He even got a brief, sudden and very childish urge to pinch himself, just to know that he wasn't dreaming. Of course he didn't. He just finished brewing the coffee and went back to his brother as quickly as he could. He was quiet as Prussia carefully sipped the coffee, feeling a surge of happiness when he saw the flash of warmth and contentment in his brother's eyes. Honestly, Germany didn't know what to say to him, despite not having seen his brother for a year. Prussia himself seemed lost for words, too.  
It was only after he finished his coffee that he looked at Germany, blinking tiredly. "I'm sorry that I left so suddenly," he croaked. Gods, what had happened to his throat out there? He sounded terrible. "I just…" He sighed, his eyes looking dull again, a flash of guilt in them. "I just wanted to help you…"  
"I know."  
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry I failed."  
"That's okay."  
"I tried…"  
"…I know."  
Prussia sighed again and wrapped his arms around Germany wordlessly, holding him tightly. But his grip slackened quickly, he slumped more, eventually he basically hung from Germany's shoulders, his breathing deep and rhythmic. Germany smiled as he realised Prussia was falling asleep right then and there, carefully peeling his brother off him again. As he gently laid him down on his side, getting up off the couch himself, Prussia grunted softly, clearly already asleep. Germany just hushed him, still busy trying to help him get comfortable there, like with moving his legs onto the couch. Prussia was fast asleep by then, so Germany watched in silence and total bliss. His brother was back. Then he went and got a blanket as well, carefully draping it over him before he went off the get the newspaper himself. But he got sick of looking at those pages filled with nothing but bad news pretty quickly, exchanging the newspaper for a book soon after. But he could only read little bits at a time; half the time, he had his gaze fixed on Prussia, who was sleeping peacefully. Apparently he was too tired to even snore softly like he always did. Prussia was hardly ever loud (unless he'd been drinking, then he could be annoying) but he did snore. Not now.  
He was back. His brother was back now, and Germany's world had gotten a little bit brighter again for it.

* * *

Hours later, after Germany had made himself lunch -Prussia still hadn't woken up yet- the door opened, letting in the noise of Austria and Hungary talking to each other. At least they sounded happy, but Prussia shifted with a soft grunt, so Germany got up quickly and went to the hallway.  
When Hungary saw the young empire, her gaze lit up and she opened her mouth to greet him, no doubt in an overly enthusiastic manner if her expression was anything to go by. Immediately Germany shushed her, warning them both to be quiet. They looked confused, obviously, so Germany led them both to the living room, telling them both in a whisper that they would like this no doubt.  
Standing in the doorway a few seconds later, Hungary had to slap her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from squealing. Austria, too, looked overjoyed, much to Germany's surprise. "When did he come back?" the older nation asked his younger cousin in a whisper, to which Germany explained that he'd come in not too long after Austria and Hungary had left. The latter was carefully making her way to Prussia now, kneeling down beside the couch. "I'm glad to see you've seen some sense, Gil," she whispered to him, gently running her fingers through his white hair. Then she got up again, but not before she gave him a gently kiss on the cheek first.  
Austria soon took her place beside Prussia, only to pull the blanket over his shoulders; Prussia had shrugged it off earlier. "Good to see you're back," he said flatly, but with a definite trace of warmth in his voice as he spoke. He smiled a bit, then followed Hungary and Germany upstairs so that Prussia could get some more sleep before he would be woken by their conversations.  
Hungary sighed there, still blissful that her friend was back home and in one piece at that, but also disappointed. "He looks like shit," she stated in her usual blunt manner.  
Austria raised an eyebrow at this, carefully reminding her: "Well, he most certainly looks better than you expected; he isn't in a coffin, after all."  
Hungary stuck out her tongue at him for this comment, then turned back to look at Germany. She couldn't stop smiling though, as she asked him why he had left. "Did he tell you now? Oh, I must also remember to apologise for my behaviour that day. He wasn't wrong when he told you I… Well. You know." Flustered after that slip of the tongue, she looked away.  
Germany cleared his throat, also finding that particular comment a little awkward. Women should keep their women-things to themselves. That's what they were women for, wasn't it? Anyway, that wasn't important right now, so he shrugged it off quickly. "He did it to protect me, which I guessed would be the case. I don't know how he hoped to do that -he fell asleep before I could even ask him- but… I don't care, really." He was quiet for a moment, then sighed briefly. "He did what he believed was right, isn't that what matters?" He was happy with it. Prussia had done what he thought was necessary and he had done what he could. That was enough for Germany.

After that, it wasn't long until Prussia woke up again as well. Well, physically he was awake. Mentally he was still far away at times.  
Hungary was a little overwhelming for him, but the kingdom looked overjoyed to be hugged by her like he was. She held him tightly, then just firmly, unwilling to let go for a solid two minutes. "You goddamn fool," she scolded him warmly. "Now look what you've done to yourself. You're thin and you look so damn tired. Also, when is the last time you've shaved? I can't remember having seen you with stubble before yet… and I see why." Now she was rambling about random things like that all the time, still holding him. "Hm. France can have stubble and look good with it, but you -and Austria too, mind you… please don't."  
Prussia chuckled eventually and patted her on the back to let her know that he would like moving space again now. "I've missed you, too," he told her with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with pure joy. Then he grinned mischievously. "What, don't like manliness? Crazy chick. Nah, I must agree with you." He turned to Austria and grinned even wider. "You're more into sissy four-eyes like him, eh? Lemme see…" He then quickly snatched Austria's glasses off his face and put them on himself, turning to Hungary again, laughing. "Well? Don't I look handsome now? Look, look, I've got a second pair of eyes now, too, go and love me already!" He laughed some more, joined by Hungary and Germany and watched in annoyed yet amused silence by Austria, before he fell quiet again and actually opened his eyes for the first time since he put them on. Germany saw something flash in his eyes at that moment, followed by Prussia hastily taking them off again and shoving them back into his cousin's hands.  
Austria irritably put them back on, huffing slightly, then looked up at the kingdom again. "Oh, Prussia," he said, suddenly remembering something. "I still have to give you something." Just when Prussia blinked in confusion, Austria slapped him in the face, then hugged him. "That," the older of the two cousins said with a smirk, "was for kissing my wife. Twice. You jerk."  
At this, Germany, who stood behind Austria and could thus look Prussia in the eyes now, mouthed in surprise: _Twice?_  
Prussia seemed to understand, and grinned back at him, replying soundlessly: _Four._ Then both he and Germany laughed silently, until Austria let go of Prussia again. The empire looked at him disapprovingly for a moment, then shook his head. "Right now, Prussia," he said commandingly, "you're going to work with that razor you've got upstairs and fix that, all right? I'll be cooking tonight, and you will eat well, you've got that? I want no nonsense about you not being hungry or any such bullshit."  
Prussia chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "Yes, dad," he joked a bit, going off to do as he was told. He seemed really happy to be back, and Germany noted with yet another blast of happiness that, though physically almost broken, mentally he looked to be doing a lot better than before he left, when anxiety had been eating at him all the time whenever he looked at Germany. It had done him good.

* * *

It was good to have Prussia home again, too, when at the end of October, not only the Allied Forces were working against them, but also their own people. The socialists in Germany were revolting, the communist party trying to ignite a revolution as there had been in Russia. It was a good thing for Germany to have three older, more experienced nations around, who could all explain him in full detail why he felt like his skull had been split in half with a scorching cleaver. This was a pain that was totally different from what he'd felt in the war before. It also left a nagging, unsettling ache in his heart when troubles reached Berlin and there was fighting in the streets. Only about a week later, there was fighting all over the Empire, though not so much in the eastern parts, which meant Prussia could stay focused when Germany was feeling terrible all over due to the revolution. At least one of them had his wits about him, despite the skirmishes in Königsberg also affecting the kingdom.

It was on a Saturday, the 9th of November, that things for Germany got really bad.  
Prussia woke up in an eerily quiet house. Ever since he'd got back from the Front, he'd had a tendency to sleep in longer than his younger brother did, probably an attempt of his body to catch up on sleep. Now Germany wasn't here yet. He waited a bit, drank some coffee and ate a few crackers. Germany didn't show up, so Prussia went up to his bedroom.  
The young empire lay very still, which was beginning to worry Prussia by now. Getting closer, the elder brother realised that the younger nation's breathing was laboured and his face was flushed. Prussia hardly had to check, but of course he still did, quickly concluding that his little brother was having a very bad fever. With a sigh, Prussia shook him awake, which took some effort. Germany groggily opened his eyes, blinking at his brother a few times before rasping something too soft for the albino to hear. The latter tried to smile at him. "Hey, Ludwig," he said softly. "That temperature's pretty bad, huh? Hey, no worries, you've got your big bro to look after you."  
Germany didn't respond, only stared at Prussia for a moment longer with dreary eyes. He really wasn't doing well. The Prussian sighed, not sure what to do with him now. He'd been caring for sick people before, of course. Holy Rome, for one. Brandenburg had been sick sometimes, and Old Fritz. Just… not that often. He also couldn't remember having dealt with a fever this high before Holy Rome had been this ill, but the old empire had…  
Well, put bluntly, he'd died the very same day.  
Needless to say, Prussia was freaking out, although he managed to keep a straight face. Whatever happened now, he wouldn't let anyone else be taken away from him. But what to even do? He knew that Germany should get plenty of fluids that day so as to not get dehydrated, but then what? It seemed useless at this point to even try and lower his temperature with water or anything of the likes.  
Well… Maybe it was a good idea to first get a clearer idea of the precise extent of this fever. Maybe getting a thermometer would be good? Yes, it probably was. He had to go out to get water for Germany, anyway. Feeling numb, Prussia stumbled away to get those two items, then went back. Germany had fallen asleep again, so the kingdom tried to wake him once more. If only Hungary and Austria had still been in Berlin. He could do with some backup and advice now. But they were busy themselves, after having signed an armistice just days before on the 4th of November and now having to arrange for a peace treaty and restore their own lands and their economy. Not to mention the fact that they argued basically all the time now, something which Prussia would normally celebrate, but if he wanted their help it sure wouldn't come in handy.  
Dammit. The thermometer read somewhere between 40 and 41 degrees Celsius, which wasn't good. Once again, though, he wished the lines weren't so small and so close together so that he could read it much more easily and quickly. He had wasted those few seconds now.  
Prussia made sure his little brother drank at least a good few sips of the water he'd brought, although he couldn't get him to drink quite as much as he believed was necessary. Oh well, that would come later. Next up was just sitting beside him, trying to cool him down. Keeping an eye on him most of all, though. Still a bit numb, Prussia dipped a folded towel in the cold water he'd taken with him and dabbed at the sick empire's face with it. Germany frowned and grunted at it and tried to turn away, but he didn't even get that far. Though it was unnerving, this did make Prussia's job a bit easier.  
The albino sat back when he felt he couldn't do much else for his little brother now, watching the feverish figure in front of him with worry and fear. Shortly after that, Germany shifted a bit, his half-open eyes focused on Prussia now. The kingdom stared back, assuming he just had his eyes open but wasn't really aware of what he saw; he remembered vaguely that he had once felt like that, and he wondered if he had looked something like this too. But then the younger nation started talking, taking him by surprise. "Brother?" he rasped softly, sounding as if he was asking for confirmation of that, so Prussia said a soft response to let him know that he really was there. Germany blinked once. "Is the war over yet…?" he then asked, his voice croaking on the words. "I was told… Someone said it'd be over soon… Do you know who that was?"  
 _You've got to be kidding me._ For a moment Prussia hoped that Germany had just been dreaming, or maybe hallucinating, that it wasn't true that someone had actually come and told him this. But then he recalled the many occasions he'd seen his family himself (still much too few occasions, in his opinion) and reminded himself that seeing them around did not mean impending death. Not at all.  
So he just smiled warmly, masking his uncertainty. "No, I don't. Maybe you could describe him to me?"  
Germany hesitated for a moment, taking a few seconds before speaking again. "Young," was the first thing he said. "Teenager… Looks like me. Do I have a twin…? No, no, I don't… Pretty sure I don't…" Prussia couldn't suppress a true smile at this. He could already guess who that was. But Germany wasn't done explaining quite yet. "He spoke weird… Very old German. Like you do sometimes."  
 _Only one possibility there._ "That's Holy Rome," Prussia said warmly, feeling a rush of affection for his deceased elder brother. "My big brother, whom you're named after. That one." Despite the situation, he could only barely stop himself from chuckling at the confused gaze with which his little brother was frowning at him.  
"He's dead," Germany stated matter-of-factly.  
"Yes, he is."  
"Was he revived?"  
 _That fever's really doing a number on his brain._ "No, of course not."  
Silence. Then: "…Did we travel back in time?"  
This time Prussia did chuckle, only for a moment. "No, it's still 1918, silly," he gently told his younger brother, his lips still twitching a bit as he tried to hide his smile. "He's a… a ghost of sorts. You can sometimes see him and talk to him, in your dreams most of the time."  
Germany then muttered something about how that didn't make sense, that ghosts didn't exist and that, if they appeared mostly in dreams, that was just more proof of them not being real and just being figments of one's imagination. Then he scolded himself for being so foolish and said he'd been dreaming, then. Prussia just carefully told him that it having been a dream didn't make it any less real, but Germany was back asleep again already. Reassured now, for some reason, Prussia could relax a bit after that.  
As the hours passed, Germany got a little better again, too, so early in the afternoon they agreed it would do no harm if Prussia went out for groceries for a little while.

* * *

Germany really didn't like the way he felt that day. His thoughts were hazy and slow and he struggled to really grasp anything that was going on. So when he thought Prussia was taking a long time to come back home, he stared at the clock for a solid 10 minutes before deciding that, since it was 20 past 4 in the afternoon, his brother must have been out for some 2 hours by then, while it was only about half an hour at the very longest to get to the stores. Surely it hadn't taken him an hour just to get some bread, cheese, butter and drinks? After all, they still had vegetables, potatoes and some meat, so he wouldn't have to go out for that. The butter, cheese and perhaps milk could all be gotten in the same store, bread he would have to go elsewhere for. Just 2 shops. No, that wouldn't take an hour or longer.  
Even his slow, feverish brain soon came to the conclusion that Prussia had gone and done something stupid again. Germany just hoped he had still got the groceries, though. They were fresh out of bread.

Having come to this conclusion already, it hardly surprised Germany when the door opened a few minutes later, followed by Prussia's croaking voice: "Sorry, ran into revolutionaries." He sounded like he was in pain. Germany sighed and rolled his eyes. Why couldn't Prussia ever be careful? He had such a soft, gentle personality, but at the same time he was a reckless fool and way too outspoken. Germany could only wonder what he had done to get those rebels angry like that.  
But his indifferent attitude evaporated in the heat of the shock that hit him like a lightning bolt when Prussia actually got into the living room; he hobbled on one leg, the other clearly having a fracture in the shin. There was blood on his lips and the side of his head looked blueish and swollen. He was being helped along by a young woman, who was supporting the injured albino so that he wouldn't fall. But, the sick empire noted vaguely, he did have a bag with groceries with him. Good.  
Prussia grinned sheepishly, knowing very well that he looked pathetic like that. Meanwhile the young woman nudged him to a chair, taking the bag from him and dropping that on the table quickly. Prussia winced as he sat down, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth. He waited a second before looking up at Germany and sighing, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of joy and pain and embarrassment. "Got a couple ribs broken," he said, then nodding to his leg. "That one, too. And they knocked out a tooth. Nothing that won't grow back, of course, 'twas mere humans after all."  
"I recall you caring more for your people," the woman said flatly, though there was a hint of indignation in her voice too. "You wouldn't call them 'mere humans', would you now?"  
Prussia rolled his eyes and smiled, leaving Germany confused. The human looked familiar, but he couldn't place it. Prussia was already replying. "Normally, I wouldn't. But these were disrespectful, unawesome jerks. The nerve, fighting their own nation -in a group no less!"  
"They overpowered you quite quickly, yes," the woman said, now with a hint of a giggle instead. Suddenly Germany recognised her.  
"You're Monika," he guessed, startling her -he spoke rather sudden. "Aren't you?"  
Monika smiled. "I am. I didn't think you'd remember me as easily as your brother would; we've only seen each other for a day, after all." Prussia had recovered right around the time that Germany had been allowed home out of hospital, so Monika hadn't stayed long anymore once the empire had come home. It was good to see that she looked healthy enough, and still alive, too. What with the revolts and the near-famine, it wouldn't surprise Germany if some of his people were dying without having to be at the Front for it. She had gotten older, of course. It was one of those moments that Germany realised how unusual he and his brother actually were; he could be this girl's father, being nearly 50 years old now. Prussia could be his own great-grandfather some 10 times over or something. But Monika and Prussia looked to be of roughly the same age now, 19 or 20, not much older. Monika shook her head, amused, as she began explaining what had happened. "I was just going out to get eggs and such," she began with a hint of laughter in her voice, "when I heard a familiar voice yelling angry-sounding stuff at some socialists. Something about them not having the right to change government just like that, that they had to… what was it? 'Fuck the hell off' with their revolution and communism? Something like that." She laughed softly. "Needless to say, by the time I went around the corner and could see him, he was on the ground." Her gaze darkened when she said that, clearly disturbed by what she had witnessed just a short while ago. "They… they were kicking him, all 5 of them. How can anyone do that? It's sick."  
"Lucky for me," Prussia added in a lighter tone again, gesturing to the young human, "this little angle here was there and peeled me off the pavement when they'd left. All the other people around didn't give a damn. I do think some of them recognised me, but still… Apparently it's not even worth giving a few minutes to their kingdom after he's been assaulted."  
Germany nodded, taking it all in a little slowly. Then, suddenly, he remembered one sentence Monika had said, and his heart skipped a beat. "Change government?" he asked hoarsely, his mind hardly able to process that. "What… what does that mean?"  
Monika didn't answer and Prussia looked a little hesitant, too. He looked at his little brother with a worried gaze. "Well," he began reluctantly, "it's not lethal, of course, but if you were still wondering why you're so sick today…" He took a deep breath, still wondering for a moment what to say, then just saying it.  
"You're a republic now. The Weimar Republic."

A day later, the war ended.

* * *

 **So yeah, the German people revolted against the government in late October, November 1918 (for the first time, that is) out of discontentment over the war and the state it left the country and economy in. Influenced by the communist revolution in Russia the year before, the communist party tried to take control, but in the end they lost and it was the other new government that declared the nation the Weimar Republic on the 9th. Subsequently this new government signed an armistice with the Allied Forces and the royal/imperial family fled to the Netherlands.**

 **That, of course, would be hell for a nation.**

 **But hey, Prussia's back, he's still in one piece (what those rebels did to him will heal quickly) and Germany's doing OK-ish too, aside from that government thingy. And the war's over!**

 **Now for the interbellum...**

 **Yeah. Don't expect happy times too soon yet, is all I can say. Thanks for reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

**I managed to upload this in time! Whoo! (sorry 'bout that, I'm just happy; life is easing up on the whole keeping me so busy thing now...)**

 **Anyways, thanks for the reviews and all!**

 **Also, has anyone here heard of the Hetalia Fandom Awards? Apparently they're an anual thing. People can vote for their favourite fan artists, writers, cosplayers etc. Just thought I'd mention it ;) (don't really mean anything by it, it's mostly that I'd never heard of it before myself... I think I have my favourite fan artist in mind already. He's really good...)**

 **And other than that, I don't have much to say. So on to the chapter, I suppose?**

* * *

Germany had heard the stories, of course, but he had never imagined peace was such a difficult thing to achieve.  
The German Empire, now the Weimar Republic, had its continued internal turmoil with the communists trying to rise to power and the new government trying to settle. None of the German people were used to being a republic, so it was a case of trial-and-error for them as of yet, which naturally didn't work out well for Germany and Prussia. Other participants in the war also had similar troubles: the UK was once again dealing with Ireland, where the rebels were starting to re-emerge after their failed uprising in '16, French land had quite literally been torn to pieces, Russia was still in turmoil after the revolutions of '17. Then there was Austria-Hungary, which technically didn't exist anymore: the joined empire had been dissolved at the end of October 1918 and the monarchy abolished on the 16th of November. Hungary was currently an unrecognised independent republic from Austria, though it was already clear that the future had a lot more change and hardships in store for her, too. She and Austria weren't formally divorced yet, but that too would happen. With better things on their minds right now, their leaders had decided to make their divorce official only after the peace treaty had been signed, when they weren't so occupied with all that anymore.  
This of course made for an inapproachable Hungary; she was so troubled by everything that was happening to her personally that she'd gotten short-tempered and snappy and she hardly took part in meetings because of it, which she had received permission for from her leaders.  
That Germany and Prussia were so busy also meant that they hadn't been able to attend meetings with their former enemies in person. In fact, Austria and the Ottoman Empire were the only Central Powers that had spoken to the Allies during the peace process so far.  
They had received a message though; in an attempt to reconcile the nation personifications with each other as well after a war this terrible, it was decided that if they wished to add a personal promise to the treaty, that would be included in it, though it wouldn't be written in the official document. Both Germany and Prussia didn't have to think for more than a minute before deciding on something.

It wasn't until the summer of 1919 that the treaty was finalised and the nations and their leaders gathered together on 28 June that year to sign it.  
France was their first, of course, as it took place in Versailles. Prussia and Germany were the next to arrive together, being ignored completely by their former enemy. Prussia felt a stab of regret at this. They had been friends once. Great friends. There had been a time when, just decades after losing Brandenburg and not being on good terms with either Austria or Hungary and also not seeing Holy Rome often, Prussia had felt that the two friends he'd made in the Silesian Wars, France and Spain, were the nations he was closest to. With Spain, though they didn't have such regular contact anymore, he still got along pretty well. After the Napoleonic Wars, things between him and France appeared to be beyond repair.  
If there hadn't been one already, this previous war had got to be the final blow, the last grain of sand to fill the grave of their past friendship.  
Instead of paying attention to France and his own remorse, Prussia spoke softly to Germany, hoping to reassure him a little; his first war had been terrible, it had been lost, and now his first peace treaty would be nothing in his favour on top of it. He was nervous and also a little afraid of what would be the final outcome of today, so Prussia felt that it was his job, as the elder brother and the most experienced of the two of them in peace treaties, both favourable and more unfortunate ones, to assure him all would be fine in the end. After all, there was nothing they wouldn't survive.  
The United Kingdom, minus Ireland of course, arrived next. Both Germans glanced uncomfortably at Scotland; the old kingdom had a long scar on his cheek, which Germany recognised as being the one caused, of all things, by the barbed wire. Maybe that one had been turned into a so-called 'battle-scar', like the wound Verdun and Somme had left on Germany. According to Prussia, it wasn't uncommon for injuries with a real, physical cause to end up representing battles like that, though of course the sudden wounds that could appear on a nation's body were more common.  
Still, aside from that scar, Germany couldn't see any trace of the terrible wounds that had made the nation almost unrecognisable just 4 years ago. That was perhaps the only light for him on this dark day.  
Next to arrive were America and then Russia before finally, Austria and Hungary came in, too. With them there, the last discussions commenced.

America got to his feet first, holding a stack of papers in his hands. "First of all," he began, starting to hand the documents out to everyone, "these are the points we have previously discussed and agreed on. Feel free to look through them before we discuss the issue any further."  
A scoff further down the table alerted Germany, and the young nation looked up to see England glaring at the paper he had just received. He gritted his teeth angrily and Germany thought he could hear a low, soft growl coming from the kingdom, too. "Hold on a moment," he muttered under his breath, "why is he taking the lead?" He was soon hushed by his Prime Minister, who looked rather displeased with his nation for a moment.  
America was unfazed by the obvious disdain in the older nation's voice. "I'm not taking the lead, British dude," he replied with a sigh, sitting back down. "I'm just handing everyone papers. Francy-pants will take it from here," he added with a nod in France's direction.  
Said nation scoffed as well, his expression even grimmer than England's as he whispered sharply: "Shut up, America!"  
"Isn't he a ray of sunshine today?" Prussia sighed under his breath beside Germany. The new republic didn't see the fun in it, if that was supposed to have been funny in the first place.  
France then cleared his throat before he started speaking. "If you look at the last page, there are personal points for every nation as well which we have not yet discussed. They are completely out of the nations' own initiatives."  
Germany wasn't sure whether they were supposed to look at that right now, but when he saw all the other nations flip to the last page of their documents, he followed their example. For both him and Prussia, the list was achingly short: _the United States of America promises to send the Weimar Republic and the Prussian Free State a sum of 1000 dollars to help them in their personal economic hardships.  
_ Well… at least that was enough to keep them fed for a while. Still, with what food? Owning money did not guarantee that one wouldn't go hungry these days. But America couldn't know that, so Germany looked at him briefly. America noticed and met his gaze, and from the older nation's tiny nod the young German knew that he had understood this silent effort to show gratitude.  
Then he heard an exasperated sigh, and Germany looked up again, curious what was going on. His stomach twisted slightly when he saw Scotland put on a pair of glasses that he'd kept in his pocket earlier. Even with them on, he squinted and clearly struggled to read the words written on paper.  
Beside Germany, Prussia made a nervous noise to draw Scotland's attention. "S-Scotland, I..." he began hesitantly, unsure what to say exactly. "I can tell you what's on there, if you need me to." There was no answer, but all eyes were turned on Prussia now, and for once he seemed uncomfortable because of it. "Should you need any further medical treatment because of the gas incident, if… if ever your eyes can medically be restored to what they used to be before all this… I will pay for every bit of it. Consider it a compensation for everything we've done to you."  
Scotland looked totally lost for words after Prussia said that. It took him a moment to respond; he looked away a little uncomfortably, his voice soft when he spoke. "Thank you, Prussia. That's…" He trailed off for a moment, sighing, and his lips twisted into a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."  
Prussia only shook his head. "It's the least we can do for you," he insisted. "Being blind for a year… I'm so sorry."  
Germany couldn't listen to his elder brother talking as if he was the one to blame. A little reluctant and very uncomfortable right then, he shifted. He couldn't look at Scotland now, but he had to say this nonetheless. "You could have been killed," he choked out, wondering not for the first time if his former enemies even knew this. "I was there, planting shells for the attack. That's… probably the reason some of the damage lingered. I'm so sorry," he added quickly. "I had no idea you were there. It was never my intention to hurt another nation like this."  
To his relief, Scotland shook his head with still that careful, forgiving smile. "That's all right, Germany. I'm sure you were only following orders. It's all too easy to make a mistake. And hey, I'm alive and I can see again, right? You did nothing wrong, the way I see it."  
…That had to be one of the best things anyone had ever said to him.

"Now on to business, shall we?" France said a few minutes later, when everyone had discussed these personal additions to the treaty. With an angry gaze, he looked at Germany and Prussia. "You damaged me badly," he told them, voice overflowing with contempt. "I expect you to pay for the damage you've done. Trust me, this is a debt you'll have trouble paying off, but you will pay me. It's the least you can do after all you've done."  
Prussia growled softly. "Have the guts to speak the truth," he muttered under his breath, glaring murderously at his former friend. "It's revenge, goddammit, nothing else." Germany couldn't help but believe that his brother was right; Napoleon, after defeating Prussia at lightning speed, had made the Prussians pay a hefty sum as tribute. In return, Prussia had taken industrial land from France after the Franco-Prussian War of 1870 and demanded a similar tribute. Now this.  
Scowling, Prussia demanded briskly: "How much do you want, asshole?"  
France was eerily calm when he answered flatly: "132 billion gold marks."  
Silence. No one spoke, no one moved. It was as if no one even breathed at that moment. For Germany, all his thoughts had stopped in an instant. Only those words, that insane sum, echoed through his head, again and again and again, as if to mock him. _You'll never repay this debt,_ it seemed to be saying. _Your economy will never recover. This punishment will last you a lifetime._  
Much to his surprise, the first to protest against this was England. "France, don't you think that's a bit too much?" he began carefully. "I understand that you need money for reparations, but please consider their health as well: everyone here is in a bad condition and they are no better off than you are right now."  
France didn't react with words; he only glanced sideward at his half-brother, huffing angrily.  
England narrowed his eyes, tensing at this lack of response. Gritting his teeth a little, he insisted: "Don't be greedy." There was a nasty edge to his voice as he spoke. "Lower the debt, even if just a little."  
America cleared his throat, distracting everyone from the rising tension between France and England. But what he said made it no better in the end. "Right, on the matter of debts…" England already paled a little when the younger nation, who had supplied him with arms and funded his war before eventually joining the war himself. "You and your brothers have something to pay me, too." He passed a note to the United Kingdom, which made England jump up in complete shock. " _What?!_ " he exclaimed, eyes wide. "Alfred, this is… this is ridiculous!" He was yanked back into his chair by his prime minister, who scolded him in a whisper, enough to make the old kingdom blush in shame. "Apologies," he said hastily before turning back to America. "America, I'm begging you, have some consideration. We could never pay all this."  
America sighed, telling them that they had all the time in the world to pay off that debt, but they would pay, no matter what. Wales and Scotland then said something to England too, so soft that Prussia and Germany couldn't hear, but the youngest of the brothers seemed calmer after that.

"Maybe on to territorial changes now?" France's leader suggested. "We will take back the land you took from us 40 years ago," he then added to Germany and Prussia. "Also, parts of East Prussia shall be ceded to Poland and Russia."  
Prussia nodded solemnly, his eyes focused on the wall, gleaming with worry. Germany felt bad for him; that was land that Prussia had spent decades fighting for. He had sacrificed a lot to gain those territories and now they were taken away from him again. As if the economy, losing the war and the transition from being a kingdom to being a free state wasn't bad enough yet.  
 _And the debt,_ a voice in the back of his conscience reminded him grimly. _Don't forget the debt, idiot. It would kill you sooner than you could ever pay it off. That one.  
_ Germany closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out those thoughts. No, he could do this. Somehow.  
The meeting went on for some time longer, ending with the announcement that Austria and Hungary would officially get divorced within the next month, as a result of the dissolution of their empire.

* * *

The nations stayed afterwards, except Russia, who had no reason to stay and talk, he said. France left quickly, too.  
After making sure that his little brother would be all right on his own, Prussia went to Scotland hesitantly. To his relief, the older nation was more than willing to try and have a friendly conversation despite the long and draining day and all the bad news. "Don't let France get you down," was one of the first things the Scot said to his friend. "He's doing really bad; when he's recovered a bit, he'll be more approachable again for sure."  
Prussia sighed and nodded, silently looking at the British nation. He was still wearing his glasses. It would definitely take some getting used to, seeing him with glasses. The Prussian shifted a bit. "They, err… they do suit you, you know," he stammered, nodding to his friend's eyewear.  
Scotland chuckled. "You think? You're probably the only one, then." Then he shook his head and took them off for a moment, holding the glasses for a moment, staring at them. It was the first time that Prussia could see any trace of sadness in his pale blue gaze, some sort of grief. "I'd better get used to it, though," the Scot mumbled, more softly now. He sounded as if he was talking half to himself just then. "I'm afraid the chance of my eyes recovering completely is… well… non-existent, basically."  
Prussia swallowed hard, feeling a lump of guilt in his throat even though he knew he had even less to do with all this than his little brother did. "I can't even imagine how terrifying it must be to go blind just like that…" he sighed, feeling just as bad about what had happened as when he had first heard about the accident. "It's already freaky to-… Never mind." He stopped himself just in time there, averting his gaze for a moment.  
Scotland glanced at him for a moment, clearly curious as to what he had been going to say. But he didn't inquire about it. Instead, he gave Prussia a firm pat on the shoulder. "May I compliment you on how you raised Germany?" he said out of the blue, grinning a bit at the younger nation, completely taking Prussia by surprise for a moment. "He seems like a responsible young man. Polite, too," the old kingdom went on, sounding impressed. "He looks strong, too. He'll need to be…" His haze hardened a bit, worried. "He'll need you, you know? For someone so young to go through this war and then such turmoil right after it, such economic troubles. He'll need you, more than ever, I believe."  
Prussia was speechless for a moment and could only nod. But then fear washed over him once again. Could he handle that responsibility now? He had raised his little brother well, but that had been during peaceful times when the people and economy were thriving. Even then, he had made a mess of it more than once because of his own emotional chaos. "What if I mess up?" he mumbled, speaking the question without even realising it right away.  
Scotland shook his head. "You won't," he said reassuringly.  
But Prussia knew that he didn't understand. He couldn't understand. The former kingdom's stomach twisted, wondering for a moment if he could be honest with the Scot. Surely he could? Scotland had always been kind and understanding and helpful. He was a fierce man all right, but only when he needed to be. If there was anyone Prussia could talk to other than his family, it had to be him. "Allistair," he began softly, still hesitating. He glanced around quickly, making sure that they were alone. They were. It was okay. Prussia took a deep breath. "You know how almost my entire family just… disappeared, right?"  
Scotland seemed surprised, but nodded. "You mean you still don't know what happened to them?" he asked, however.  
Prussia shook his head. "That's the problem. When they died, something in me just… sort of… snapped, I think," he explained tentatively. "For quite some time, I have, admittedly… I've been obsessed with finding out the truth. I.. I was really…" Just the memories freaked him out. Eyes wide, he stared at Scotland, not knowing what to do anymore. "I can't be like that anymore, Al! I… Ludwig needs me, I know he does. So what if, now that the war's over and I've got no distraction, I will be like _that_ again?"  
Scotland seemed taken aback for once, not following it all anymore. "Whoa," he interrupted Prussia when the albino was just starting to say more. "First off, describe 'that'. What exactly did you do?"  
Uncomfortable now, Prussia shifted. "Swore that I would find their killer," he confessed timidly. "Because they've been killed, I just… I know they were. I… I swore that I would take revenge. On _everyone._ " A cold shiver went down his spine then. "I don't want to be the monster everyone always told me I was…"  
An uncomfortable silence fell between the two nations then, Scotland staring wordlessly at Prussia, his gaze puzzled. Prussia felt sick. But then Scotland shook his head again. "What monster? I never thought you were. You're Prussia: a troubled soul, yes, but a good one. You're no monster."  
"…Not yet…"  
"Don't say that."  
"You don't know what I've done. What I've wanted to do."  
"But I do know that I believe you're not a bad person. So not _everyone_ has always told you that you are."  
Prussia cracked a tiny smile then, thanking the older nation. Scotland smiled back, but then his expression turned grimmer again. Something flashed in his eyes and now he was looking as uncomfortable as Prussia had been earlier. "If we're doing uneasy confessions, anyway… Maybe you can help me with something, too." He looked aside for a moment, frowning, then he sighed deeply. "One of my brothers has done… regrettable things, too. That was a while ago, but I'm afraid that by now, he might-"  
"You mean Ireland, don't you?" Prussia guessed almost immediately, making Scotland flinch. The older nation stammered that he shouldn't talk about this, he had promised not to, but Prussia silenced him. "Then don't tell me what he did, all right? It's just, if he did something a little while ago and he might be doing so again now…" He hardly had to think about it. It was so easy. Maybe because he'd been there, too. "He's having a guilt trip, isn't he?"  
Scotland seemed even more uncomfortable, regretting even bringing it up. "Well… you could call it that."  
 _Hell, I don't even want to know what he's been doing in a mind-set like that,_ Prussia thought, pushing those thoughts away. "Talk," was all he said. It was all he knew to say. "It always worked on me. Be as persistent as you need to be. If you end up having to break his heart, then you should damn well do so, no questions asked. So long as you're there for him when the patching up begins."  
Scotland nodded, but he also sighed. "We've done that…" he said almost reluctantly.  
"Don't stop doing it. It will take time, but it will work." Prussia smiled warmly at the memories. He couldn't count the times Old Fritz hade brought him to tears just trying to make him talk about all the feelings he'd bottled laughed softly for a moment, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder. "Hey, good luck with him, all right? I'll do my best with Ludwig."  
Scotland grinned again now, too, cheered up again in an instant. "Sure. Don't worry, laddie, you're a great older brother to him, I'm sure."  
"And you're a great little brother to Ireland, _laddie_. So don't you worry, either."

* * *

Meanwhile, Germany had stayed behind in the conference hall they'd been in, unsure what to do now. Prussia had gone off to chat with Scotland, Austria and Hungary were somewhere else in the building and the remaining UK nations and America were talking softly at the other side of the room. Alone like that, he just felt like he didn't belong here. His former enemies wouldn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to them, either. He had better things to do than to stay here and do nothing, but he couldn't leave on his own, either. Prussia would come with him, but first he deserved to talk to his friend a bit. But then, even if they would leave now, then what? They had better things to do, yes, but nothing that they could do would change their dire situation. It would all be as useless as sitting here was in the end.  
If he could go into a coma right now and not wake up until there was a light to be found at the end of this dark tunnel they were headed in, he wouldn't hesitate for a second. Maybe they still had some poison gases stored somewhere back home in his own country. Maybe if he breathed enough of that, he'd be out for some time at least. And if they didn't have any in storage, well, Prussia could no doubt figure out how to make some just by reading chemistry books. He had brains like that hidden underneath his arrogant-looking, 'all brawn and no brains' exterior. Hell, that man had brawn _and_ brains, he just lacked the restraint and common sense to make optimal use of both.  
But those shortages didn't affect his capability of absorbing information like a sponge did water. He could make poison like that if he put his mind to it, no doubt about it.  
Ah, but then again, poison made by his brother might actually kill him. So maybe he shouldn't ask Prussia, after all.  
"Hey… Germany? Yo! Earth to Germany, someone's trying to talk to you!"  
Startled, the young nation looked up. America stood in front of him, leaning forward and grinning when he saw the look on Germany's face. "You were spacing out, man," the American told him with slight laughter in his voice. Then, without waiting for a response from the young republic, he straightened himself again. "I just remembered that we haven't been properly introduced. So, here goes: I'm the United States of America, nice to meet you!" He then held out his hand invitingly.  
A little tentative still, Germany stood up and shook his hand, giving a curt nod. "The German Em-… W-Weimar Republic, I mean." Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "Apologies. That will still take some getting used to, I'm afraid. Going by a different name all of a sudden."  
American chuckled for a moment, stating that he knew how that felt. Then he looked up again. "Heh. Nice to finally know what a pure German accent sounds like, anyway," he stated jokingly. "Your brother's German-Scottish is so weird. Speaking of Prussia, did you know he and I have some history together?"  
Germany needed a moment before he knew what the American was referring to, but then he nodded, answering that he'd heard some stories, yes. Never the whole tale, though.  
"Well, he came and trained me for battle when I went in revolution against England," America said with a shrug. "Guy spent a year living with me back then. Plenty of time to form a bond, right? We sort of became friends, though contact after he left was a bit rare." He fell quiet for a moment, then laughed sheepishly. "Err, anyway, what I wanted to say is… Well, it really is good to finally meet you, is all. I remember receiving a letter some 47 years ago, something like that. Prussia being all proud about his new little brother who was born a couple months before that, in 1871. I've kinda been wanting to actually meet you since then." He glanced around the room then and sighed. "Shame that it had to be like this, though. But I won't let circumstances ruin the moment; you and I met on friendly terms just now, all right? Let's forget that we just ended a war and all that crap."  
Surprised for a moment, Germany was silent a bit longer. Then he nodded yet again. "I can agree on that. Nice to meet you, too, America."  
This attempted-friendly conversation was cut short when the sound of arguing suddenly came from the hallway, getting louder rapidly. Both nations, along with Wales and England, looked up instantly.  
"Elizaveta, _please_ , don't be like that!"  
"Like _what?_ "  
" _That!_ "  
The doors swung open, followed by Hungary pacing into the room irritably, giving off vibes that made even Germany nervous to be in her presence right now. She looked as if she had a personal little thundercloud hanging over her. Anyone who pissed her off would no doubt get zapped. She spun around immediately, shoulder tense, staring at Austria as he was coming after her. "Leave me alone, goddammit!" she yelled at him, grabbing the doors again. "You've nothing to do with me anymore, haven't you realised yet? So quit being a meddlesome jerk already!" Then she slammed the doors shut, just before Austria could reach them. Despite them being unlocked, the other nation did not try to get in, nor did he say anything else. Germany wondered if he just stood there, astonished by Hungary's behaviour, or if he had walked away, fuming like she was right now.  
The woman stood leaning against the heavy wooden doors a moment longer, growing ever more tense, then she slammed her fist against them and screamed something in Hungarian, immediately followed by an angry sob. Hungary collapsed onto her knees, still leaning against the door and pounding her fists against it now and then, crying frantically.  
Both Wales and England moved to go to her, but Germany beat them to it, standing by her side just seconds after she had started crying like that. Once there, though, he had no idea what to do. He had never dealt with anything like this before and, if he had to be honest, he was especially inexperienced when it came to talking to women. Hungary and Belgium were rare exceptions, as he had known them his entire life, but right now that didn't seem to make any difference. Should he say something? If so, what? How would she react? If only he'd been in this position before, he could've written out the process step by step like he had done with helping his big brother with his nightmares. Hungary was completely unpredictable right now, something he had trouble dealing with in any situation. He liked having an idea of what to expect. He had absolutely none right now.  
Eventually he told himself to at least do _something_ , and so he did. The first thing he had decided to try was to get her attention by placing his hand on her shoulder. She barely reacted. "Hungary…" he sighed, regretting that he didn't let England and Wales take care of this after all. "What's-?"  
He couldn't say any more; Hungary spun around, jumped up and swung her arms around him, clinging to Germany but still not able to say a word between her frantic sobs. Germany stood frozen in shock. So… so now what?! If only Prussia were here. Or just anyone, really, so long as they spoke Emotional Woman and could translate this for him. Preferably with a free manual included in the package.  
"I-I don't know what to -to do, L-Ludwig!" Hungary choked out eventually. "So much is going on and I-!... I can't keep track any-m-more…!" She sounded absolutely terrified, desperate, confused, hurt. Germany could tell that much. A solution to this problem, though, was still far away yet. "I lost a war, I changed government, I'm at war _again_ , I changed government _again_ , I'm getting divorced soon and-!" She broke off in another sob and didn't say anything anymore after that for a solid minute. By then, she had quieted down a lot, though she still clung to German as though her life depended on it. "And then I'm being told to _'not be like that'_ …" she then brought out with some difficulty, voice barely stronger than a whisper. "How? How am I supposed to just _deal with it?_ Goddammit, I don't even know what I am right now… Am I a republic? A-a Soviet Republic? A monarchy? Or am I just a goddamn _mess_ that no one knows what to do with right now, because _I_ don't even know what to do with myself!"  
Finally Germany found his voice back. A proper question, finally. He knew what to do with those, it was the simplest thing ever; questions ought to be answered. Truthfully. Easy.  
"I don't know, either, Hungary," he admitted softly, hoping his voice was somehow soothing to her like that. "But, you know… you're not alone." He sighed. "I don't really know what to do right now, either. All that chaos in my land right now, dealing with the aftermath of the war, changing government… I know what you mean." He hesitated a moment longer, took a deep breath, then forced the last words over his lips: "So… how about we figure it out together?"  
Hungary sniffed, moving back and staring up at him with red-rimmed, glassy eyes. But she smiled gratefully. "Thank you, sweetie," she whispered, barely audible. Then she just gave him a hug, a quick one this time, and stepped back afterwards. It seemed as if she only noticed the others then, and her face went red. "Oh my… I… I'm so sorry for that," she stammered, embarrassed.  
The other nations just told her not to worry; they could totally understand her confusion and frustration, so there was no need to apologise.

Shortly after that, Scotland and Prussia came back. Hungary immediately hugged Prussia when he came in, taking the albino by complete -but in no way unpleasant- surprise. Meanwhile Scotland went back to his younger brothers, though he smirked a bit with a sideward glance at Prussia, whose face was almost as red as his eyes as Hungary hugged him like that. The UK said their goodbyes to the other nations and left in a hurry; they had a ferry to catch and a train before that, so they really had to leave now, they said. America followed their example rather soon after, leaving only Germany, Prussia and Hungary. They found out that Austria had already left on his own, so Hungary went with the two German brothers as of yet. The next day she would head back to Budapest, while Germany and Prussia would return to Berlin.  
All rules and restrictions imposed on them aside, for the two brothers that day hadn't been quite so bad in the end. It certainly wasn't a good one, but not nearly as bad as they had feared.

* * *

 **I hope you liked the chapter! Once again, parts of this chapter might be familiar to people who have read Rising.  
I like intertwining storylines :)  
**

 **Thanks for reading again!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Very late chapter, I'm sorry. Just 1,5 weeks left in school for the year (although I have exams at the start of January so writing during the Christmas break might still be a rare pleasure for more...*sigh*)**

 **Anyways, another Rising-overlap moment here. For those who've read that and were wondering what a certain someone meant in his little rant... I hope this explains it well ;) (Hah... like I had planned that 2 years ahead. No sir. Just been cracking my brain over how to go with that.)**

 **Also, MissiriKoharehn, about the Italy thing... I'm not straying from Hetalia-canon entirely ;) You'll see.**

 **So I hope you'll like it!**

* * *

"So, have you found anything yet, Ludwig?"  
It was January 1920, a few months after the Treaty of Versailles had been finalised. For the first time ever, even the first time that Prussia could remember, the government had decided that the two nations had to find a 'normal' job to make sure they would earn enough to live off; the pay that they normally got from the government for all the work that they did as nations would now be used to pay off the war debts as well. As if that tiny amount could ever make a difference if they had billions to pay. For the brothers, however, it made a huge difference. As if the economic situation hadn't condemned them to a life in poverty yet.  
Germany sighed and shook his head. What was the government thinking, anyway? Part of the reason why the economy was in such a state was that there were simply no jobs to be found. Unemployment rates were through the roof. So basically, they were telling their nations to starve.  
Prussia twisted one corner of his mouth upward, forming a tiny but slightly crooked smile. "I may have something," he announced, though none too enthusiastically so. "I'll have to go there this evening, so I can't be here with dinner. A smith."  
Germany was pleasantly surprised at this news. Finally, a chance to have some income again, however little. "So, you mean in a factory."  
That's what Prussia was less happy about, apparently. His semi-grimace changed to a real one now as the nation grunted softly. "No, like the old-fashioned hammer-and-anvil work. But hey, at least the lack of machinery makes for more available jobs, right? Wish me luck there."  
"Just try to look as if you're happy when you go there," Germany told his elder brother flatly, getting up and walking to the window, staring out of it. There was a thick layer of snow covering the streets and the roofs. At least he didn't have to worry about Prussia getting too cold over at his potential new job, if he had to be around furnaces all the time. But that was only one of the things on his mind then. Most of all he felt immense frustration. It wasn't just Prussia's job to provide the two with food and other necessities if they were to survive. Germany was old enough to be responsible for such things, too. He _wanted_ to take responsibility, get a job now that they had to and make sure they could afford to at least eat every day. It was the least he could do, wasn't it?  
But he would. It was hard for anyone to get a job nowadays. Just like Prussia, he would find something, even if it would take time. Besides, for now they still had some of the money that America had given them; they'd made sure they would keep it aside until they really needed it.  
So he pushed those negative thoughts away and tried to replace them with these more positive perceptions. Forcing a smile, he turned to his brother again. "Just try to get there and back again without freezing to death, all right? Good luck, and for Heaven's sake, brother, try to make a good first impression."  
Prussia looked at him indignantly, huffing then. "I'm a hard worker, diligent and precise and motivated, and you know it!" he stated, raising his chin proudly. But a twinkle in his eyes showed Germany that he knew very well that the younger nation hadn't intended his comment to be an insult.  
So, to add to the joking between them now, Germany replied: "That, and you're short-tempered, loud and blunt. Not a good combination when you're applying for a job, I'd wager." He smiled when Prussia chuckled at this, though inside he still couldn't let go of that feeling of uselessness and his frustration. Before the war, maybe he would've been fine with it if Prussia did more than him, but not anymore now. Things had changed in those 5 years, they had changed drastically. He hated feeling like a child who couldn't do anything useful for his family.  
Suddenly Prussia stood by his side; he hadn't noticed that the albino had even gotten up. The older nation was smiling reassuringly. "Things will be all right, Ludwig," he said, as he had done a million times or more by now. "The economy can't stay like this forever, can it? And tonight I'll be awesome and get hired and then soon we'll have some real income again instead of using up all our savings and America's money, all right?"  
"…Right. Just so long as you won't be doing all the work."

* * *

That evening, Prussia found himself in his new workplace and an awkward situation he had not seen coming.  
Namely, he refused to let anyone know that the economy was in such a bad state that even nations needed to get a job now. That they were _getting_ jobs while most of the people could only dream of such a job. Well, not that it was completely certain yet that Prussia would be hired, but he was going to make sure that he would.  
Because of this simple wish for anonymity, though, he stumbled upon a certain unexpected obstacle. Prussia had always believed that he had everything humans did and more, except for a 'normal' family of the father-mother-child type and the obvious mortality. Now he realised he also lacked a surname.  
He panicked when he was asked for his name, and he just glanced around quickly; the first thing he saw in that smithy was an old woodcutting axe hanging on the wall. _I can work with that,_ he thought. "Beilschmidt," he answered as casually as he could with his brief bout of panic. He just hoped the man wouldn't notice how he had just turned 'axe smith' into a name. Although, honestly, Beilschmidt was a proper, existing surname, so it wasn't that bad of a choice. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, sir."  
The human nodded acceptingly, then eyed the nation curiously. "You're a young thing, aren't ya?" he asked bluntly.  
Prussia bit back an angry retort: _I'll be bloody 728 in just a couple of days. If that's young to you, suit yourself._ Instead of saying that, he managed to stammer awkwardly: "Yes, I'm… I'm 20 years old." He just picked the age most people estimated him as. The oldest he'd been estimated so far was 23, the youngest he had heard in the past decade was 16.  
No. No, thank you very much. He'd been a teenager for a few centuries, he would really like to be considered an adult now, finally. Also, 16 was just ridiculous. No, he was 20 or older, but no less than that, dammit.  
The human seemed to accept this no problem. But he just continued being blunt. "Probably too young to have fought in the war, eh?" he half asked, half stated. Prussia just irritably told him that he _had_ been fighting, though for the sake of keeping his lies believable, he said it had only been from late 1917 until the end -joining the army at 17 was believable, wasn't it? His potential future employer (which was the only reason he hadn't walked out of there yet) next asked him if he had any experience working with an anvil.  
"Working with it… unfortunately not, sir," he answered truthfully. "But I have spent sufficient time around them and smiths to have a clear idea of the process, so I'll figure it out soon, I can promise you that much."  
"We'll see about that," the human replied, though he smiled approvingly at hearing Prussia's determination. Then he handed him a hammer. "Heinrich over there can fill you in on the details of this 'process', as you called it. Spend tonight learning to work at the anvil, tomorrow you'll start making tools for use in factories, all right?" Then he gave the nation a firm but somehow welcoming pat on the shoulder, and Prussia couldn't help but smile, his red eyes shining.  
 _I actually have a job!_

* * *

The next morning, Germany went into Prussia's room, worried. They had a meeting in an hour and Prussia wasn't up yet. That wouldn't be such a problem, were it not for the having to leave within 20 minutes if they wanted to be there in time. Of course he knew his brother had had a short night, what with his new job being in the evening and night because he had his regular work to do during the day, but right now that just didn't change anything. They had a place to be, nothing else to it, no exceptions possible.  
So Germany reluctantly woke his brother, which was easier said than done right now. Prussia frowned in his sleep, grunted and turned onto his other side, facing the wall now rather than Germany. The younger nation sighed, giving the Prussian a firmer shake. Then he called him. Then he called louder.  
Finally the albino seemed to be woken by all that. "Dammit, Ludwig," he muttered, his voice slurred with sleep. "Not yet… Need sleep."  
"I know," Germany answered apologetically as he pulled his half-asleep brother up; at least sitting, Prussia was less likely to fall back asleep right away. "But we also need to go to that meeting, remember? The one with Von Hindenburg. He won't like it if we're late."  
This seemed to jolt the free state more awake. Prussia shook his head, swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up. He was swaying for a moment, but found his balance quickly. Annoyed, the albino grunted yet again, quickly assembling an acceptable outfit. "Shit, Ludwig, I'm sorry," he said hastily, nearly tripping as he was rushing to put on his trousers. "Can you perhaps throw together a quick breakfast for me? I'm really sorry to have to ask, but… Oh, damn, I totally forgot." He was just about to button up his shirt when he realised it was inside-out and he nearly tore it in half with the speed with which he corrected that little mistake.  
Amused, Germany promised that he would. "Just make sure to be down quick," he called as he was already halfway down the stairs.

Germany had just set Prussia's plate on the table and started fixing his own hair, the one thing he hadn't yet done, when his brother came downstairs. He still looked a little dishevelled, but not nearly as bad as Germany had feared he would. The older nation ate his breakfast in a rush, but not before thanking the republic for it, then when he finished that he quickly got a tie as well.  
In the end, they were on their way less than 15 minutes after Germany had gone to wake Prussia. They had to be able to get there in time now.

With days like that, after just a few weeks Prussia's schedule consisted of work, sleep, more work, more sleep. Every waking moment was spent working, either for the government or for the blacksmith. Germany soon found a job, too; he did wood crafting now, mainly making clocks and ornaments like that. They could live off their combined earnings now, but they were being pushed to their limits.  
It was because they were both so exhausted that Prussia was overjoyed to receive a letter of invitation a few months later and even more so when, by a miracle and a half, he and Germany got a week off to accept that invitation.

* * *

Prussia breathed in deeply the moment he set foot on solid ground again after getting off the ship. "Doesn't this smell wonderful?" he asked, smiling wide and stretching blissfully. It had been too long since he'd been here.  
Germany wasn't so sure of it, though. "It's… air," he replied flatly, shrugging. Given, the air here in Scotland was different from back home, but it was just air.  
Prussia didn't take any notice of his brother's attitude. "Now to find a taxi," he said, half to himself. "Then we're on our way!"  
For their first night here in Scotland, they had to go to a B&B, because Wales and England were still staying with Scotland for another day. After that, Prussia and Germany could stay in the old kingdom's house rather than spending their hard-earned money on that room.

"They must be having a hard time, too," Germany stated out of the blue as he and his brother were walking up to Scotland's house some time later; he could see the three United Kingdom nations through the window. "At war with their brother… I can't imagine what that must be like." Ireland had recently started a new round of his rebelling, and this time it was more than just a week-long uprising. This time it was war.  
Prussia sighed and nodded. "Trust me, it's crap," he answered softly. "But… I could never fight you." He literally couldn't. He and Germany were basically one and the same nation. That is, Prussia was part of Germany; he literally couldn't fight his little brother other than on a personal level, something which he hoped would never be the case.  
Of course Scotland was the one letting them in after they'd rung the doorbell. Prussia could basically feel the surprise pouring off his little brother for just an instant; the Scot was wearing a kilt. He did that sometimes. Well, probably more than sometimes, really.  
Prussia just greeted his friend with a wide smile, thanking him for letting them come over for a couple of days. To Scotland this was just a friendly visit, but to the two Germans it was a full-blown vacation, those few days that they would be here without having to work day and night. Then when Scotland went past them to close the door again while Prussia and Germany hung their coats up, the albino leant closer to the young republic for a moment. "It's a cultural thing," he explained in a whisper, praying that Scotland still didn't speak any German.  
Germany glanced at the old kingdom quickly, then shook his head. "Strange culture."  
Judging from Scotland's little smirk as he brought them to the living room, he'd understood exactly what they had been talking about. Prussia only then realised how similar the word 'culture' was in English and German. Of course the Scot would know what his two guests were whispering about. At least he didn't seem offended, Prussia thought with a surge of relief.  
That relief faded in a blazing fire of awkwardness just seconds later, when the two Germans came face to face with Wales and England. The two pairs of brothers were staring at each other in complete silence. There was only one word for this situation, really. Suddenly dropping by for a friendly visit over at your ex-enemies' place just months after ending a war against them. Somehow Scotland was the least awkward to be with; seeing the two youngest nations in the British Isles now was just plain weird.  
That was it, that one word to describe this moment. Plain, bloody weird.  
Eventually Prussia cracked a sheepish grin. "Hi."  
Germany rolled his eyes at this. "Aren't you at your most eloquent today?" he sighed, looking away from his brother.  
Prussia huffed for a moment. "Do you have a better idea of what I'm supposed to say?" he grumbled. Though he did agree with his little brother. That was the weakest greeting he'd ever heard, and it had come out of _his_ mouth. Insane. He was more awesome than that.  
Thankfully, a grin from Wales erased some of the tension. "Seems to me like your language lessons haven't paid off as well as you made it out to be, Allistair," he joked to his elder brother before turning to Germany and Prussia. " _Salve, Parve,_ " he said to Prussia in particular, a hint of laughter in his voice. Then, turning to Germany, he added: " _Parvi fraterque._ "  
England started laughing at this, while Prussia gave the older nation an indignant, offended stare. Wales himself chuckled a bit as well. Germany just stared at them, then looked at Scotland, noticing that he didn't understand any of it, either. The oldest of the nations eventually sighed loudly, demanding a translation.  
Wales shrugged. "Just going back to the good old days, Al, that's all!" He was still laughing a little.  
It was England who actually did as his brother asked and translated Wales's words: "'Good day, Pipsqueak,' is what he said," the nation explained. "Followed by 'and Pipsqueak's brother'. Nothing special, really, but…"  
"The joke doesn't work anymore, Dylan," Prussia sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm taller than you now. Have been for about a century."  
Scotland patted him on the shoulder, grinning a little. "Why don't you just sit down, laddie?" he suggested. "I think we've got some catching up to do, don't you? Same goes for you, Ludwig -if it's okay with you that I call you that?"  
Germany just nodded quickly, still silent, then took his place beside Prussia on the couch. Prussia sat between him and England, so that was one less awkward thing. He liked being away from home and stress for a little while, but did it really have to be here? This was going to be a long evening.

They talked a lot, Prussia telling the British Isles a bit of how things were back home nowadays; he told them about his and Germany's new jobs, about the huge amount of work they had to do day and night and that it didn't seem to help improve the situation one bit. The older nations seemed to feel sorry for them, but didn't comment on it much. Then, with more cheer, Prussia added that he had found inspiration for a surname in his new work as a smith. Germany just told him flatly, for the umpteenth time already, that he did not want to be considered a 'Beilschmidt'; he was totally fine with being Prussia's brother, he loved it even, but he wouldn't take on a silly name like that just because his brother had done. For this, he mentioned again the fact that all his other siblings didn't have that name either, so he didn't need it. End of the story.  
Prussia pouted a little at that, but didn't complain. Instead he just asked the other nations how they were doing, being a little blunt when he began talking about Ireland without any hesitation. "I could never imagine fighting Ludwig," he repeated, glancing at his little brother for a moment before looking back at the United Kingdom.  
Wales only shrugged uncomfortably, whereas England gave an actual answer, telling Prussia that the war was going all right, it wasn't too bad yet, but it was more of a burden emotionally speaking. It was difficult, having to fight their elder brother while they were just starting to patch up their relationship -it had felt like that, anyway.  
Prussia felt his stomach twist and memories flashed through his mind for a moment. He hadn't gotten the chance to patch things up with Saxony. They had been so close once, then they grew apart, they ended up constantly being at each other's throats right after it had looked like they were becoming more friendly with each other again. Then the war happened. The accident happened. Prussia ended up killing his own brother.  
He said a quick, silent prayer that such a thing would not happen in this family, also. He wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Scotland saved the moment when he said he would be getting some beer for all of them, suggesting that they would compare German and British drinks -Germany and Prussia had of course taken beer with them. To this challenge, of course, Prussia responded with laughter. "You'll never beat true German beer, Skirt!" he called after his friend, grinning mischievously.  
Scotland wouldn't give up without a fight, though. "Yeah, we'll see about that, Gil!" he called back from the kitchen, adding quickly: "And it's called a _kilt_ , for Heaven's sake!"  
Prussia wasn't the only one laughing after that; England and Wales joined in. Only Germany was silent for a moment before leaning to his elder brother, asking in a confused whisper: "I thought you knew stuff about his culture?"  
Prussia only grinned and nodded yes, still chuckling as he did so. When Scotland came back with whatever alcoholic drinks he had stashed away, the free state got the few bottles he and Germany had brought out of the bag he had by his feet. It looked like a meagre contribution to what Scotland had provided. The albino sighed. "I'm sorry that we don't have much, we…"  
"Drank all the rest on the way here?" England guessed jokingly as he flipped the lid off a bottle already. Wales gave him a rough poke in the side for this, looking at him with a silent warning in his eyes.  
Germany just shrugged. "We couldn't afford any more than this," he corrected the Englishman truthfully. While it was clear that England had only been joking, he did look away uncomfortably after this and apologised softly. The two Germans tried not to let any of that bother them, though.  
Now when Germans and Britons start drinking, apparently, it's basically impossible to say who can outdrink who. They all discovered that just about half an hour in, as they were all talking and drinking and having as much fun as they could. Honestly, the 'having fun' part seemed most difficult for Wales and England. Scotland just got giggly once he'd passed a certain amount of alcohol, something which Prussia had already known. England got nostalgic and sad. Wales got grumpy as hell.  
England's sentimental rambling made for an interesting dialogue between him and Prussia after some drinks, though.  
"I can't even go to Australia and New Zealand because we're so busy," the Englishman complained, slurring. "The other colonies, too. They suffered in the war, too, and we can hardly even show them that we care because of work and fucking Ireland." He let out a dry laugh after this. "It's America all over again. What do I do wrong…? No one ever wants to stay…."  
Prussia snorted. "At least you get some company for even a little while. No one even wants to get involved with me in the first place." He took a large swig of his beer in an almost rebellious manner.  
England looked up at this, frowning. "That can't be true," he argued, sounding a little confused. "You've got friends, family… stuff."  
"Name me one that hasn't left me in any way. Aside from Ludwig."  
"The Holy Roman Empire?" Wales tried with a huff, sounding like he didn't give a damn. Obviously that wasn't true, though: if he really hadn't cared, he wouldn't have commented.  
That brief moment of interest didn't change Prussia's mood, though. "Died," he reminded them all flatly.  
"Hungary?"  
"She actually assaulted me several times, verbally and physically. She flat-out rejected me. Then she married my least favourite cousin."  
"All right… Speaking of cousins then, how about the Netherlands?" Scotland suggested.  
"We get along. Never been too close."  
"Jeez, you're making it hard on us here." That was Wales again. "You had your wife."  
Prussia rolled his eyes. "Yes, and I still visit her weekly. Oh, actually I haven't had the chance to do so anymore, working day and night nowadays, but you know… the idea is there."  
England seemed thoroughly confused for a moment, the alcohol clouding his mind very clearly there. "How do you…?"  
Scotland started laughing at this. Pretty loudly. "Damn, Artie!" he choked out between his almost hysterical laughter. "He means at a cemetery, you bloody fool!" Wales muttered to him to have some consideration and shut up, but it took the Scot a little while before he did that.  
All the while, Germany was still very quiet, going easy on the alcohol for a change and carefully observing everyone.

This went on for quite a while, though eventually they also talked about more light-hearted things. It was when Prussia started dozing on the couch beside Germany that they decided to leave soon. It was pretty late already, anyway. On top of that, the Prussian generally got sleepy when he was drunk. Germany was the one to make the decision to leave before his brother had a chance to start snoring.  
Before doing that, however, Prussia felt the need to do one last thing. He got up briskly and pulled England to his feet, dragging him along into the hallway and shutting the door. He could see the surprise and even mild anxiety in the older nation's eyes as he pinned him to the wall, but he didn't care; this had to be said. The albino had to be certain he would have England's full attention.  
"England, for God's sake," he whispered sharply, staring him straight into his emerald eyes as he spoke. "Whatever you do, do _not_ underestimate the war you're in." He trembled a little as he spoke, his mind spinning with all the memories flashing by and swirling through his head. His stomach twisted as he once again saw a teenage girl with light brown hair and staring blue eyes, her skin pale and cold and her abdomen drenched in blood. Another girl, a little younger and with darker, almost black hair. Her chest had been pierced and she had bled out. A blond man, his brown eyes invisible under the blood that was blinding him, his face basically split in half and bleeding profoundly. All of Prussia's mistakes, all his regrets. The two lives ended by his hand, the two lives he had failed to save. No one else should ever suffer the same pain.  
"If there's one thing I've learnt in the centuries I've lived," Prussia went on, gritting his teeth a little as he spoke, "it is that every war, without fail, _will_ get out of hand."  
He saw the sheer confusion in England's eyes as the man stared at the younger nation in stunned silence. Prussia wondered for a moment if the old kingdom could see his thoughts, the dark secrets he had been keeping for ages. The saying goes that the eyes are windows to the soul, after all, and England was staring straight into the Prussian's red eyes. If he could, well... Let him see it. For just a moment, Prussia was tired of keeping his secrets anyway. He wondered briefly, not for the first time, how long it would be until the entire world would learn of his crimes and his shortcomings. His broken heart, his twisted mind, his darkened soul.  
Whenever that would be and however it would happen, right now he just had to make sure another poor soul wouldn't follow down the same path by making the wrong decisions. "Don't underestimate it," he repeated, his voice quivering lightly on those words; after that he controlled his voice again. "You will have to fight your brother, England, and one of you _will_ get hurt. It always happens, it always does, and this war won't be an exception." Shit, he hadn't even declared war on Saxony. He'd been busy kicking that meddlesome Austrian out of the German Confederation when by some twisted miracle he had killed his own brother.  
England and Ireland fighting… Honestly, it had been the very first thing Prussia had ever seen them do. When he first laid eyes on Ireland, the near-ancient nation had ended up in a bad fistfight with his youngest brother just moments after that. Despite what they made others and perhaps even themselves believe, however, Prussia just knew with all his heart that they cared about one another. They loved one another, even. They were brothers, after all, how could they not? Even if they really did hate each other, though, Prussia also knew that it would still be painful to have to hurt each other, maybe even end up killing the other like he had done Bavaria and Saxony. It was a pain that never faded, never lessened. It could move to the background, but that guilt, that regret, that deep sorrow and even deeper shame… it always stayed.  
He had known that when the accident with Saxony happened. He had known full well that it had been an accident. For that reason, he didn't feel quite as ashamed about that as he did about Bavaria's death, which had been straight-up murder. Knowing and accepting the fact that all of this was inescapable and reminding oneself of any good intentions behind their actions lessened the pain somewhat.  
That was his last message to the Englishman for now. He had to know this part. "If you want to get out of this unscathed," he told him intently, "then you first have to accept the fact that you _cannot_ get out of this unscathed. Understand?"  
England, wide-eyed with astonishment and breathless, nodded silently.

* * *

Over the next days, after Wales and England had left and he didn't feel quite as surrounded by former enemies anymore, Germany eased up a little, too. Scotland was good company, he had to admit. The old kingdom didn't talk about the war, he didn't talk about the aftermath of the war. His conversations with Prussia seemed to be focused on the past. Whenever he talked to Germany, he would ask normal things like what his interests were, what did he think of what he had seen of the Scottish towns and Scottish culture so far. Things like that. It was probably because Scotland was just as tired of constantly thinking about the war, but Germany appreciated this chance to focus only on other things. He'd needed this desperately.  
He especially loved to see Prussia feeling so at ease here, though. Germany himself was hardly any better off, but it was good to see his brother not basically working himself half to death for once. For both of them, it seemed as if just not being under constant pressure and stress for the first time in a while actually improved their health, which had been rather bad for a long time already.  
It was for all those reasons that, against all expectations, Germany felt a pang of regret when the day came that they had to leave again. Back to the stress. Back to the chaos. Back to working until they would simply defy the odds and drop dead from sheer exhaustion. Back to real life.

Soon it became clear to the young German, however, that when he thought he would go back to life as he was used to it now…  
He was dead wrong.

In the summer of 1920, when Germany was working at home, there was a sudden knock on the door. Sighing in annoyance, he got up to open it, ready to send whoever it was away -unless it was someone from the government, of course. Those could stay.  
However, although he hadn't been expecting anyone in the first place, the person he saw when he opened the door was an even more unexpected guest than he thought possible. "I-Italy?" he stammered, confused and wondering for a moment if he'd fallen asleep and was dreaming. What a weird dream, though, if Italy Veneziano appeared in it out of the blue.  
The older nation grinned sheepishly. "Hi, bambi-… Uh… Germany." Thank God he'd corrected himself like that. If there was one thing Germany would no longer accept, from Italy or anyone, it was being called a child. Prussia could keep on calling him little brother for all eternity, that was something that would never change. Didn't mean the republic wasn't nearly an adult already.  
Meanwhile the little Italian was fidgeting a little. "So how are you? I'm, uh… Well…" He cleared his throat and laughed dryly. "You know how I wasn't at the Treaty of Versailles? Yeah… I was promised stuff for helping the Allies in the war and then I didn't get any of that and now everything's chaotic and a mess and I was kind of wondering if you had any work available because the government just forgets to give me and brother our pay. Or they refuse to. Or they can't. I don't know anymore. So, do you?"  
Germany was still only halfway through processing his rushed explanation for suddenly dropping by like that. "Uh, I guess," he answered Italy's second question, the one about his absence at Versailles the year before.  
Immediately the older kingdom's gaze lit up hopefully. "Really? _Grazie, grazie tanto!_ Does that mean I can stay here for a little while, too? Please say yes!" When Germany, who was overwhelmed by the Italian's energy in contrast to his own exhaustion, didn't answer right away, Veneziano added in a rush: "I can do the cooking and the cleaning, too! Romano is doing the governmental work while I was sent off to earn money to send home. _Please_?" He kept on begging for a bit longer, until Germany just shushed him in a brief moment of panic. His tired mind couldn't keep track anymore.  
"All right, all right!" he interrupted the older nation, who fell silent instantly. Ah, the sweet silence. Music to the German's ears. "Just shut up already, will you? Honest to God, Italy, you're more annoying than I thought sometimes…"  
Italy didn't respond to that blunt comment, instead skipping past the young republic in another outburst of energetic enthusiasm. "Thanks again for letting me stay, Germany!" he said happily, reminding the other of what he had just agreed to without thinking it through.  
By the stars, he'd just wanted Italy to stop talking like that. He'd just wanted him to slow down so that he could follow what he was on about. He'd just wanted _silence_ and _solitude_ so that he could work.  
But now, seeing Italy's hopeful gaze and his grateful smile, he just couldn't send him away anymore. Why had he inherited a soft spot for him from his brother, honestly? It really didn't come in handy. On the contrary, it was as inconvenient as could be. On top of all that, how was he going to tell Italy that there were no jobs, that searching for work here was perhaps even more useless than it was in Italy -why had he come here in the first place? Didn't he know that Germany was the absolute worst place to be at the moment? Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but still.  
"Uh…" he stammered, unsure what to do with this sudden mess. "Just… wait until Prussia's home, all right? See what he says."

He shouldn't have put his trust in Prussia to solve his mess.  
The albino, despite nearly collapsing from exhaustion, jumped in joy when he saw the Italian and tackle-hugged him before drowning the poor guy in questions; how had he been? How was Romano doing? Why was he here? Oh, was it really that bad? He just went on and on with things like that until he almost really _did_ collapse. Prussia staggered mid-sentence, only just managing to regain his balance, but then Germany was already dragging him to the couch before he could hurt himself.  
"It's really good to see you, Veneziano!" the free state continued from there, smiling wide at his friend. "I've missed you, I really have! You should've come by sooner! Oh… wait, that was during the war… never mind." The rest of the evening, until he fell asleep in the middle of a conversation, Prussia seemed almost drunk on Italy's presence. He really loved his company.  
While Germany liked seeing Prussia happy, of course… because he really did…  
 _Why had he inherited a soft spot for him from his brother, honestly?  
_ For God's sake, he'd _known_. Germany had _known_ full well that Prussia basically had a geographical crush on both Italians, Veneziano most of all. He loved everything about them, from their climate to their history to their cuisine. The language, the culture, the topography, the geography. _Every. Single. Thing._

So they were stuck with Italy Veneziano now. As Prussia would say it, had he still been awake…  
Just… awesome.  
 _Dammit._

* * *

 **So more Italy in the next chapter! I was planning to incorporate some more canon things between Germany and Italy in #15... Heh. You probably know what I'm talking about.  
**

 **As a quick note about the Hetalia Fandom Awards, that favourite artist I mentioned got a shit ton of nominations~! Dude deserves them~~  
(You may also know who I'm talking about with this one... *nervous laugh*) Crossing my fingers that he'll get votes, too ('cuz I don't know how to do either...)**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading again and I hope you liked the chapter!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Oh my god, this took so long to write...**

 **Just... Tests. Tests and deadlines and then Christmas and... gaaaaahhh...**

 **Anyways...! I hope people can accept the Italy I wrote here, haha... He's a bit...  
Well, let's just say all of Europe was chaos in this time. Italy's no exception.**

 **Thanks everyone for reviewing and favouriting or following and I'm sorry that this chapter took so long!  
I hope you'll like it.**

* * *

By a miracle and a half, when Germany went to his night-time job and Italy tagged along with him, the older nation somehow managed to get hired at first sight. By God was he annoying on the work floor, but everyone loved him. He sang while making clocks and some humans soon joined him in that habit.  
At home he sang as well, while he was cooking, while he was cleaning. The only times he didn't, really, was when he was asleep or reading or doing the papers he needed to do to send money home to his brother. Despite that, though, he was nice company to have. It was good to be able to talk to him in the time between when Prussia left for his shift at the smith's and when Germany had to go to work an hour or so after that. For Prussia, the Italian was good company as well in the rare few moments he had between work and rest.

Of course, there were the annoying things, too, aside from the incessant singing. Italy demanded a lot of attention. He didn't seem to know when he could and when he couldn't bother Germany and Prussia. When he was told off for keeping them from their work, he would make a face that, intentionally or not, made something in Prussia melt; the albino would then hug him and tell him how cute he was and would say over and over again that he couldn't be angry with him long. That naturally didn't do anything to change this annoying habit the Italian had. Honestly, he was like a child sometimes, so much so that Germany had trouble believing that he was as old as he was; some 1500 years at least. Almost twice Prussia's age.  
Thinking about it, Prussia was also pretty immature sometimes. Maybe nations got more childlike the older they got after some point? Germany found himself wondering about that increasingly often.  
But the absolute worst thing about Italy?

Germany shifted in his sleep, waking up slowly. He blinked open his eyes to find it was still dark; he generally worked from 8 in the evening until 2 in the morning, came home and went straight to bed at around 3 and had to get up again at 7. The sun came up early in this season. He couldn't have slept long yet. So he turned onto his other side, ready to try and sleep some more.  
But then he found himself wide awake in an instant.  
Italy was there. Beside him. Asleep. In his bed.  
Germany stared for a moment, eyes wide, frozen in shock. Then he quickly shoved the Italian out of his bed. "Nope."  
The Venetian limply fell to the floor, also jolted awake in a heartbeat because of it. Startled after that short fall, he sat up with a short yelp, then stared wide-eyed at Germany, who just stared back at him with a similar look in his eyes.  
There was a moment of silence between the two nations, which was broken when Italy, sounding indignant over being shoved out of bed like that, said a single word: " _What?_ "  
"What?!"  
" _What?!"  
_ "What the _fuck_ , Italy," Germany then demanded angrily, if only to break the endless cycle of 'whats' between them. "What were you doing in my bed?!"  
Italy stared at him as if that was the dumbest question ever. "Sleeping?"  
"No."  
"Well, I was, until you kicked me out like that!"  
" _No_ , Italy, you don't get into somebody's bed while they're sleeping and just go to sleep there!" Was it that hard to understand? Germany was tempted to just punch him in the face by now. The little bastard! This was the worst violation of private space that Germany had seen so far, and he'd seen a few. "You just _don't!_ "  
Italy got to his feet, swaying a little at first before he regained his balance. "That couch is killing my spine," he said matter-of-factly. Germany wondered for a moment what had happened to the sunny, cheerful little Italian he knew during the day and their shared night-time job. Veneziano was cold and moody right now, not quite like Romano but still more like his elder brother than himself. Romano just had more temperament, a sort of fire when he was angry. But honestly, Italy didn't have the right to be angry here -he had been the one crossing the lines by getting into Germany's bed like that! Still, he didn't seem to see it that way. "You know, you can hardly expect me to sleep on a couch for months on end. Especially not when you consider the work I do around here!"  
Germany wouldn't back down, though. He was in the right here and he knew he was. Italy could at least apologise for being so rude. Such a creep, too. "And so you get into another person's bed with them without their consent?" he demanded with dry laughter. "Without their _knowledge?_ Italy, we _told_ you we don't have more beds when you came here. Hell, when Austria and Hungary stayed here for a little while, they slept on a makeshift bed on the floor. Well, and at one point they shared Prussia's bed together and Prussia came here with me, but that just doesn't work out. We warned you. You knew."  
Italy just huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the young German through narrowed eyes. "You said you can't just get into someone's bed, right?" he asked coldly. "Watch." Then he turned around suddenly and walked out of Germany's bedroom.  
Germany, already having an idea what he was planning to do, jumped out of bed and went after him. "Goddammit, Italy!" he snapped at him in a hushed voice; he didn't want to end up waking Prussia while he was saving the ex-kingdom from this crazy little Venetian.  
Oh, surely this was a dream? Italy wasn't like this. He was weird, but he wasn't insane.  
Germany gave up by the time Italy got into Prussia's bedroom. He walked over to the sleeping albino without any hesitation, moved his duvet aside -at which the Prussian shivered for a moment and grunted softly- then promptly got into bed beside him. Germany just watched in silence, frozen to the spot, as Prussia shifted. He was waking up slightly.  
"Italy…?" he croaked sleepily, barely awake. The older nation answered softly in a kind voice that it was him. "Heh. Hiya… Italy…"  
 _Fuck._ Prussia actually sounded happy. Like it didn't matter, at least. Germany saw a pale white arm sticking out from under the duvet then, wrapping around the Italian and pulling him close. Italy actually looked a little uncomfortable like that, but Prussia was already fast asleep again. Meanwhile, Veneziano just stared at Germany, smirking a little with a gaze that said: _Didn't I tell you?_  
Stunned for a moment, the young republic huffed again and turned around wordlessly. At least he was rid of that little southern pest now. Good riddance.

* * *

Prussia came down with a bright smile and sheepish laughter that morning. "Ludwig!" he greeted his little brother with more joy in his voice than there had been in ages. "Look what I found in my bed this morning!" Italy came in after him, smiling wide again and skipping through the room happily. He greeted Germany as well, sounding cheerful as ever as if nothing had happened that night. But Germany knew for a certainty that he hadn't dreamt it.  
Still, he wouldn't let Prussia know about any of that if he didn't really have to know. Instead, he just looked at both of them evenly. "Uh… great."  
Without saying much else, Prussia and Italy soon joined him at the breakfast table. It was a Sunday, the only day in the week that they could take it relatively easy; they still had work to do, but they wouldn't have to do another nightshift on the night from Sunday to Monday.  
Italy didn't say much, as he probably didn't feel like talking to Germany yet (the feeling was mutual) and Prussia was first reading a newspaper, hoping to find something useful in there.  
Eventually the Italian decided to say something to Prussia, anyway. "Hey, uh," he began tentatively. Germany looked up at this, immediately noticing what Italy was likely going to comment on; he'd been noticing this certain thing for about a year himself, watching it get worse slowly. "Prussia? Don't you think you're… kind of… Well, you're basically pressing your face into the paper."  
Prussia immediately moved the newspaper away from him, keeping it at a normal distance again, eyes sparking with nervousness as if he had just been caught committing a crime. But a few seconds later he sighed and put the newspaper away, looking tense and avoiding meeting anyone's gaze as both Germany and Italy were staring at him, slightly worried now.  
Germany just sighed. It needed to be said now. He'd been hoping Prussia would see some sense himself, but a year or more had passed since this had begun -for all Germany could tell anyway- and he'd done nothing. "Brother," he said calmly, "maybe you should go see an optician?"  
Prussia reacted as if his little brother had just hit him in the face. "Ludwig, why-?!" he began, agitated, but he fell quiet almost immediately, fear flashing in his eyes rather than anger. "No," he protested stubbornly, shaking his head as he said this. "No, I don't. My sight's fine. It's always been perfectly fine."  
This time Italy tried to talk to him again, which made Germany feel grateful for his presence for the first time that day. "But, Prussia…" He trailed off only for a moment before finding the right words again. "Those things can change, you know? Perfect eyesight in the past doesn't mean you'll always have it. Especially you."  
Those last two words were two too many for Prussia, who whipped around to stare indignantly at his friend, tension rapidly building up in his shoulders. "Especially me?!" he demanded angrily, raising his voice now. "What's that supposed to mean?!" He didn't even wait for an answer before yelling even more enraged: "Because I've got albinism, is that it? _Well?_ Because, technically, I'm supposed to be good as blind and weak and dying of skin cancer by now, is that what you mean?"  
Germany didn't understand why his brother would react like that. That is, he could understand the anxiety sparking his anger right now, but he couldn't see why he would blow up over it like he was. "Brother, please," he tried to reason with him. "I'm sure that's not what he meant at all."  
The Prussian only turned on him again now, though, as he briskly got up from his place at the table. "But that's it, isn't it?" the older nation snapped, his voice quivering by now. "The only reason for my sight to deteriorate would be because finally, after all these centuries, the albinism is really catching up to me. And you know what?" A shiver went down the Prussian's spine and he looked terrified for a moment. "That in turn would mean that I'm still declining. Losing status, losing power, losing importance. Losing _worth._ " He was breathing quickly now, an even clearer sign of how scared he was of all this. "And then I'd become worthless and insignificant and that would mean I'd get sickly and frail and weak like he did and… I'd… I'd die like they all did. Shit, Ludwig, I don't want to die!" He screamed that last part, his voice high-pitched and full of terror, making both Germany and Italy flinch. Then the albino stood there for a moment, shivering a little and with a few small tears in the corners of his eyes, which he wiped away a few seconds later. Then he just took a deep breath, calming himself. "So I'm fine," he stated flatly, half to himself it seemed. "I'm fine. My eyes are fine, too. I'm not like Sissy, half-blind and shit."  
Germany was still too taken aback by his brother's outburst of panic just now to react immediately. Instead, he stared at him for a moment as Prussia seemed unsure whether to sit back down again or walk away. The young republic eventually found his voice back and took a deep breath before speaking. "Gilbert," he began as calmly as he could manage. "Please go to the optician's tomorrow, for your own good. I'll come if you need me to. That you don't see perfectly anymore isn't the end of the world, trust me. It'll only be so if you make it like that."  
By now Prussia didn't protest against it like that anymore. He just sighed and sat down again, nodding slowly. "All right," he said in a soft voice, a lot calmer now, too. "Fine, I'll go. But I'll be damned if I end up looking like Sissy-shit."  
Italy chuckled at this. "You won't," he said reassuringly, his brown eyes twinkling warmly. "That's impossible. Different hair colour, different eye colour, different posture. You don't have the mole, either." He looked at Prussia for a moment then, tilting his head a little. "Though… It's obvious that you're related to each other. You do look alike a little bit. Just a little."  
Prussia grunted and planted his forehead on the table, sighing deeply. "That's it," he said in a whiny voice. "My life's over now. Glasses will only enhance that slight resemblance… Oh, God, people will start confusing me with Austria now! No, no, please no…!"  
"Look at it this way," Germany suggested as he picked up the newspaper Prussia had been reading and browsed through it, unable to take Prussia seriously anymore now. "You said yourself once: Hungary's into men with glasses."  
Silence for a moment. Then: "Dammit, why isn't the optician's opened on Sundays?!"

* * *

For the fifth morning in a row Prussia lay motionless in his bed right after waking up, staring at the pair of glasses on his nightstand. His mind was blank for a few seconds as he was staring at it, then slowly thoughts started dripping back into his mind. For Heaven's sake, he had glasses. When did that happen? Honestly, he had no idea when his eyes had first started to get worse. He recalled a few instances during the war when he was confronted with the fact that some of his soldiers saw more than he did. When Russia had tried to murder him, his men had spotted the other nation well before he had. He had more difficulty reading small handwriting than before. Well, he had more trouble reading anything than he had before, more like it. Near the end of the war, when he had put on Austria's glasses as a joke, it had startled him how much clearer the world was with them on. He hadn't realised that words weren't the only things more blurred to him now, not so much.  
It had probably been a gradual decline, so he didn't notice it all the time.  
The albino sighed deeply as he sat up, grabbing the little metal-and-glass object. He didn't mind it so much to wear it inside the house where only Germany and Italy Veneziano could see him, but he was more reluctant to wear it to work as well or to meetings with the government. He would rather die than have any nations (especially Austria) see him with _glasses._ But unfortunately he would have to. After all, in any meeting -which was still the main situation in which he met other nations besides his family- he would have to read and write. He'd found that difficult enough in Versailles, and since then he felt like he had gotten worse even faster. Probably because of the whole kingdom-to-free state thing. More decline.  
After a little while, Prussia shook his head, trying to shake those thoughts away. He had stuff to do, he couldn't waste his morning away like this, making a fuss of trivial things. The nation gritted his teeth for a brief moment as he put those accursed glasses on, then tried to ignore them as he got dressed. He loved seeing as clearly as he used to until a few years, maybe a few decades ago, but he hated the constant pressure on his nose; it wasn't much, but it made him dizzy and after a few hours resulted in a headache. It would probably take more time for that to end.  
Prussia hated thinking about _why_ he had these glasses now most of all. It scared him to know that his health was failing him. That is, he was still healthy, but less than he used to be. It brought too many painful memories to mind.  
When was he going to disappear like Holy Rome had? How long until he would die like everyone else had? He didn't want to leave Germany yet. But not only that: he didn't want to die yet. He was young for a nation. Saxony and Holy Rome had been relatively young, having died at the ages of 1063 and 1006 respectively. Hesse had been the only one of a decent age, really. Prussia had been told by France and Spain that they would consider him a child until he was 1000 years old; would they ever get the chance to think of him as an adult, then?  
But then, Holy Rome's decline and ultimate death had taken centuries. The same went for the Ancients. So Prussia probably had some time left. Enough to not have to worry about it yet.  
Still, his stomach twisted whenever he thought about all of this, and now he was basically forced to wear a constant reminder of his inevitable deterioration on his face. Literally right before his eyes. He felt sick all the time now.

On another note, it seemed Italy's visit was about to get interesting. Prussia had noticed how tense the kingdom was, although Italy was constantly trying to keep his happy façade. It was a matter of time until he would explode, though, which was only natural. After all, the situation in Italy was just as chaotic as it was in Germany, though for other reasons. Prussia had the idea that Germany had already seen beneath the smiling mask the Italian wore once, but the former kingdom was pretty certain his little brother was in for a surprise when Italy couldn't keep this up any longer.  
From his own experience, Prussia knew that Italy's behaviour now -happy-go-lucky and cheerful, as sunny as his climate- was his actual personality. However, just like any person, Italy had his ups and downs, and when he was in a down, that was all the more clear because of the stark contrast to his usual attitude. Because God, could he be a little hurricane when he was angry. Thankfully his occasional fits of anger passed quickly once he let it out.  
Germany was in for the surprise of the century, no doubt. Prussia just hoped he would be there so that he could keep the situation under control if necessary.  
That, and so that he could have a good laugh.

* * *

It wasn't long until Prussia's prediction came true, although he unfortunately wasn't there when it did; Germany and Italy both had a night off as the workshop was closed for a night for reasons neither cared to find out. For Germany, a good night's sleep seemed like just the thing he needed right now, so he would take this chance.  
Italy, on the other hand, took this chance to do something else. A few days before then, a letter had arrived for him, from Romano. After reading it, the Italian had gotten more tense with the day. Despite this, Germany was somehow still surprised to see the older nation basically downing an entire bottle of wine all by himself throughout the evening. He'd thought, rather naively, that drinking sorrows away was Prussia's thing. He could've known it was a common thing, really.  
Anyway, long story short, by the end of the evening Germany was seriously considering locking himself in his bedroom just to be out of Italy's way. The Mediterranean man seemed dangerous now that he was drunk.  
If only he had done so sooner, he could've escaped the hell that was to come.

" _Dio_ , Germany, can things get any messier?" Italy Veneziano blurted out suddenly, startling Germany a little. The man looked more like his elder brother than anyone else now; Romano was more the type to start having an angry rant out of the blue than Veneziano was. Italy just huffed and went on: "Romano went to America to try and get work there. Just my earnings aren't enough so now he has to go as well. Then who will be doing the governmental work, eh? I can't believe this, I swear to God…" He took another swig of the wine, straight from the bottle now, only to find it was empty, after which he looked even more pissed. "And why don't I earn enough? Because your currency isn't worth shit, goddammit."  
Germany felt a twinge of anger after hearing that comment. "I've noticed," he just muttered in response. "You could've known that and gone somewhere else, you know?"  
"Yeah, and I didn't!" Veneziano snapped then, glaring at the younger nation. "You know why? Because I knew you and your brother were in trouble and I thought I'd try to help you while helping out my own _fratello._ Aren't I a nice guy?" He laughed hollowly, though his distress was clear in his eyes. "I try to help out with the housekeeping and be a cheerful presence to keep up morale here, and what do I get? 'Italy, stop singing, please,' and 'Italy, don't bother me right now'. For fuck's sake, how about you say 'thanks, Italy!' for a change?"  
Germany, taken aback by this sudden anger, said carefully: "Italy, you're drunk I think…"  
"You don't say!" was the only response he got, followed by angry-sounding laughter. Italy shook his head then. "But sure, blame me again. Because _I'm_ the drunk one. It's not like _you_ are a goddamn straight-laced, arrogant _fuck_ with _no empathy._ "  
Now what was that supposed to mean? Prussia was the arrogant one. Perhaps the most insecure person Germany had ever seen, but with an attitude that made him seem like he thought himself god of the world. What made Germany arrogant?  
Veneziano must have noticed that the younger nation didn't understand, because he scoffed angrily. "You don't even see it yourself, do you?" he snarled. Then, in a slightly higher, more childlike voice, he said haughtily: " _'_ _Brother says it's because I'm a strong empire',_ does that sound familiar? That was just 20 years ago. I've got more recent examples, too. For one, your attitude. You think you can do shit on your own, but you know what? _Everyone_ is more experienced than you are. We _do_ know better, dammit."  
Germany was about to protest to this, but he decided that doing so would only make it worse.  
Italy went on. "Before the war, you seemed to think you were the most perfect little nation to have ever walked the Earth. Strong economy, strong army, amazing industry, you just had it all, didn't you? Nowadays, it's still all about _you._ _You_ have tons of work to do, _you_ have such economic hardships to deal with, _you_ have a chaotic government to deal with. Whenever it's not you, it's _your_ brother." The Italian was quiet for a moment, meeting Germany's stunned gaze; the republic had certainly not seen this coming. Before he could very well process those harsh words, Italy already snorted and started complaining about something else. "About Prussia, by the way… He's an arrogant fuck, too, but at least he's not as egocentric. Your incapability of speaking any foreign languages other than English is just another example. At your current age, your precious brother spoke German, Latin, some Ancient Greek, some Italian, French… I think he'd learnt some Hungarian by then, too. Now he also speaks English, some Spanish, some Polish, Dutch, Japanese, bits and pieces of Russian from what I've heard… Point is, he made a damn good effort to be able to communicate with others. He didn't expect them to just learn _his_ native tongue. He can act more arrogant than I've ever seen anyone do, but _Prussia_ at least is actually very humble and diligent. _You_ are just lazy."  
Germany shook his head angrily. He saw sense in some of the things Italy was ranting about in his drunk state, but he wouldn't just take all this like a little kid being told off by his parents. "Lazy, you say? I call it _practical_. Many people in Europe -the majority of the nations anyway- speak German. If they don't, most of them know English by now. If I have no need for any other languages to be able to communicate well, why would I waste time on learning them? And for your information: I also speak Dutch and am able to at least follow Danish and Swedish, I just can't speak those last two."  
"Oh, wow," Italy muttered in response, rolling his eyes. Then he just sighed.  
Germany huffed. "I know the two of you look alike," he grumbled, "but I honestly believed _Veneziano_ was here, not Romano."  
Indignantly, the Italian stared at the younger nation for this. "Oh, because only Romano can have a temper, you mean?" he snapped, sounding as if he actually felt offended by that. " _Please._ That I don't have a perpetual shit mood, doesn't mean I can't ever get angry!" He laughed for a moment, turning around and taking a few steps away. Without looking over his shoulder, he added loudly: "You think that just because you've never seen _Venetian fireworks!_ "  
Just before Germany could respond -though honestly he was too shocked again to know what to say- the older nation spun around and, glaring dangerously, said threateningly: "Honest to God, Germany, sometimes…! If I had my old bow with me, trust me, you'd have more than just the _proverbial_ stick up your ass!" With that, he promptly went upstairs, but not before saying good night.  
…Something told Germany he'd have to sleep on the couch that night.

* * *

Following that night, Italy was less tense again. It turned out that he had just needed to explode like the Venetian fireworks he'd mentioned, and now everything was looking a lot sunnier again.  
Also, it probably helped that Germany made sure not to complain about anything he did again.  
Meanwhile Prussia was learning a lesson about being stubborn; Italy and Germany were surprised to come home from their work one night to see Prussia already there and still in the living room instead of in bed. Then they both noticed his bandaged hand.  
"I should probably wear this shitty thing at work now, too," the albino laughed wryly, holding up his glasses with a deep sigh. "I, err… I hammered my hand a bit. Just a bit. But, you know… thing tends to be hot after hitting hot metal with it, so I broke _and_ burnt my hand."  
Germany just sighed and shook his head. So typical of Prussia. When he was awesome, he was pretty darn awesome. When he was a stupid idiot, he was a pretty darn stupid idiot. "So now what?" he just asked his elder brother as he sat down beside him.  
Prussia shrugged. "I suppose I have to stay away from work for a week longer than I normally would, to give them the idea my hand doesn't heal an a superhuman pace. But it seems the guy's taken a liking to me, so I think I'm good. He won't fire me."

Prussia had been right about that, so in the end, he was back at work within the month, after he had done some research into how long fractures like those tend to take to heal properly. By the end of autumn, Italy went back home again.  
And all that time and in the months that followed, though the economy was only getting worse, Prussia and Germany both seemed to be doing quite all right. At least they had a rhythm to hold on to, even in the chaos.

They couldn't say they were doing well, but they both also knew that it could all have been much worse yet.

It was all right this way.

* * *

 **...If only that could last longer, though.**

 **I'm sorry. To me, this chapter sure isn't my best. Have faith, it'll be better again, I swear!**

 **I feel like I just need to throw in a little time skip, so that's what I'll do. I'm stuck on 1920-1921... Sorry 'bout that.**

 **I hope you somehow still liked it, and thanks a lot for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Happy new year everyone!  
Have some angst ;)**

 **Thanks so much for all the amazing reviews and all the favourites/follows. You all really know how to make someone happy!**

 **I hope you'll like the chapter!**

* * *

The years that followed the defeat in the Great War were characterised only by steady deterioration. 1920 had been bad, 1921 had been worse. It was always like that now. By early 1922, Prussia lost his job, simply because there was no work to be done anymore; his ex-employer told him that the albino had been a better employee than he had ever thought he would be and that, had he been able to keep his business, he most certainly would have kept Prussia around as well. It was barely any consolation, though, as Prussia knew there was no hope of him finding work anywhere else now.  
It was so bad that even many war veterans, especially those with disabilities due to the war, were forced to live on the streets and beg. Whenever he saw a one-legged or one-armed man, thin as a twig, on the streets, Prussia felt sick. Even in the days of the Roman Empire, soldiers who had lived to serve their time in the army would be rewarded with farming ground to live out their days of retirement. That these men, who would have given their lives for their country, were now forced to live as beggars… It was the most shameful, disrespectful and ungrateful thing the Prussian had ever seen.  
But things for the nations were only going to get worse yet. Just months after his elder brother, Germany lost his job, too. Realising they had no other choice, the government gave them their normal pay for the work they did on a daily basis. Just enough to live off, of course. It looked and sounded like a huge amount, but by then the currency had lost so much value that the price of even bread had gone from a single mark to 100 billion of them.  
Honestly, Prussia wasn't sure if he hated the word 'mark' mainly because of his old reason -how it reminded him of the _'Mark'_ Brandenburg, or if his hatred for this worthless currency had surpassed that by now. Honest to God it could be either one of those.

By the end of the year, the government of the Weimar Republic had no choice but to admit that they couldn't pay off the debt that had been imposed on them. After this, French and Belgian troops occupied the one area in Germany that still made some profits. The Ruhr region had been the only industrial area they could still depend on, now the production there served as payment for their former enemies. The Germans tried to stand up to these troops, resulting in violence and even more drastic measures from the French and Belgians.  
Because of this, the two brothers' already poor health became worse yet. Prussia fell badly ill.  
Germany was dangerously sick.

Shortly after this occupation had started, there was a meeting in Paris, which only Prussia attended as a representative for the Weimar Republic; _he_ at least was well enough to walk, unlike his younger brother. Still, it had taken multiple promises from the government that Germany would be well looked after in his absence for Prussia to agree to go.

* * *

He trembled lightly as he stood in front of the doors to the conference hall, staring at the wood silently. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he tried to bring his racing heart to beat in a calmer rhythm. He was angry, indescribably angry at each and every nation he was about to face when opening these doors, with maybe an exception for Scotland and America. France acted as if he was hell-bent on murdering Germany through ruining his economy further. Belgium deserved revenge just as much as France did, if not more, but she should also know when to stop. The UK wasn't doing enough to reason with the French.  
Trying to keep a straight face, Prussia quickly took off his glasses and slipped them into his chest pocket. Well… he wasn't too keen on seeing their stupid faces, anyway. Then he went inside.  
Everyone else was already there. The nations looked up when Prussia walked in, closing the door behind him, without looking at anyone. There was a moment of silence, broken by Belgium when she asked with a slight quiver in her otherwise even voice: "Where's Germany?"  
Prussia sighed deeply, shrugging and still avoiding meeting her gaze. "At home, most likely," he replied reluctantly, folding his hands into fists. "The other possibility is that he's in a coffin by now, but I hope not."  
America grimaced at this. "Dude…"  
Prussia silenced him with a single sideward glance if the young nation had been going to say something else. The free state then turned to look at France, his red gaze dull with exhaustion. "I only have one thing to say here today," he began, fearing that whatever he said, it wouldn't change a thing. He was so close to giving up now. He couldn't take any of this anymore. With another tired sigh, he took something out of his pocket: a banknote. He held it up for everyone to look at. "Tell me," he said softly. "How much is that?"  
Again, it was America who responded. His eyes were wide as he looked at the slip of paper. "A… a billion?" He sounded as if he could hardly believe that a single banknote could have so many zeros.  
 _Believe this, then._ Prussia nodded and dropped it on the floor. "Just two days ago, back home," he told the other nations, "I used one of these to wipe my ass with. Seriously. Cheaper than toilet paper, see. People also use it as wallpaper, or to make notes on, to light the fireplace with. Just whatever, really." Feeling a surge of anger, he gritted his teeth and crumpled the worthless money, throwing it on the floor. "You'll need about 100 of those to buy a loaf a bread," he snapped, feeling himself get shaky again. This time it wasn't because of his fever. "We _cannot_ pay off that insane debt, we just _can't!_ Not like this, not with a currency that's this worthless. Yet, you have the guts to occupy the _only_ really productive industrial area we have?" The Prussian had turned to glare at France by now, feeling his heart pound against his ribs. So much for trying to stay calm, then. "Goddammit, do you want to kill us? If so, good job, you're on the right track!"  
"Prussia, please," Belgium then interrupted him, her eyes shimmering with regret. "If we didn't need this, we wouldn't be doing it. We wouldn't occupy the Ruhr region just to make things harder on you. You know that, don't you?" She flinched when Prussia looked at her, wordlessly; for just a moment, he didn't try to hide the sheer despair he was feeling.  
"Would it kill you to stop this?" he asked, his voice barely any stronger than a whisper. A little less self-control and he'd have been in tears by now. He couldn't see his precious little brother get any worse than he was now. He couldn't watch the nation he'd raised be killed over a war that they had only partial blame of. With a quivering voice, he added: "Because _this_ is killing us. Our people, too. So many people are unemployed, so many are going hungry."  
England shook his head after having listened to Prussia quietly. He looked at France with an angry gaze. "We told you, France," he snapped at his half-brother. "We told you this was going too far. Please put an end to this madness."  
But France huffed. "I told _you_ that we can't afford to do that," he said in an angry mutter. "Belgium and I are both suffering, too. We need this money and they can't pay it -what other choice do we have than to occupy industrial land?" He looked at Prussia then, his gaze even. But he didn't say a word.  
His silence enraged Prussia. The albino clenched his hands into fists again, his entire body growing tense. "You don't care if you end up killing us, do you?" he accused his former friend, shaking all over. "Dammit, France, you-!" Then he fell quiet suddenly, his eyes growing wide. His mind was brought to a halt, only a single thought left out of the incomprehensible jumble of thoughts he'd had just seconds before. He barely noticed that he stopped breathing for a moment.  
After a little while, America inched closer to the Prussian, nervous. "Hey, uh… dude? You okay in there?"  
Prussia didn't give a single sign that he'd heard the younger nation. He only stared at France, his eyes wide with disbelief. How had he not realised this sooner? It was so obvious. It was the only solution that made sense. "You… did it…" he choked out breathlessly. "You did it… didn't you?" France blinked in surprise, clearly not understanding what Prussia was talking about. The other nations seemed confused as well. The albino was certain he was right, though. Finally he knew. "It was you. It had to be… You killed them."  
France shook his head. "What are you-?"  
But Prussia wouldn't let him finish. "Don't lie!" he yelled, his shoulders tense. "You… you killed Holy Rome, too! You just want to finish the job now, don't you?" With a scream of anger, he lunged for France, throwing him against a wall and pinning him there, strangling the older nation. "Well, not again!" he screamed in his face, red eyes ablaze with rage. "I won't let you kill another of my siblings, never again!" He had his fist raised to land a hard punch in the Frenchman's face, but before he could do so, the free state was flung away with force. He was thrown against the table, the sharp edge of the wood slamming into the albino's back just under his shoulder blades and knocking the air out of his lungs. With a choked cry, he fell face-down onto the floor, stunned and unable to breathe for a moment.  
Immediately there was mayhem in the room. "America, control yourself, would you?!" England yelled in startled anger. There was a shiver of terror in his voice.  
America replied with an agitated edge to his voice. "You're telling me _I_ have to control myself?" he demanded loudly. "How about the guy who was about to bash in France's skull?!"  
Next to speak was Scotland, sounding close to Prussia. "Well, I'm sure that crack I heard just now wasn't France's face, or you for that matter!"  
Prussia was shaking violently, desperately gasping for breath. He hadn't consciously heard the crack Scotland was referring to, but he could feel what it was that had broken, and it hurt pretty badly. The injured nation felt a hand on his shoulder, which was trembling lightly. Why, though? In a quivering voice, Scotland asked him if he was all right. Prussia nodded and grunted, wondering only for a moment why both England and Scotland sounded so distressed. He also realised only now that Wales wasn't there, since Wales would undoubtedly have said something by now, too, if he had been. Shit, why would they complain about Germany not being able to show up but be fine with it if a member of the UK was absent? Then again, maybe England and Scotland had had to answer for that before Prussia had arrived.  
Sitting up with pain pulsing through his back, Prussia still struggled to catch his breath. Belgium gasped in shock. "Prussia!" she exclaimed, seemingly forgetting her anger towards her cousin in a heartbeat then. "Your chest is… H-how did that…?"  
Almost on instinct, the Prussian looked down: there were a few small bloodstains in his white shirt, on and surrounding his chest pocket and growing bigger steadily. Everyone else was silent as Prussia just grunted in annoyance and quickly got his glasses out of his pocket, then flung the shattered, bend object away. All the nations stared at that rather than at Prussia as the albino unbuttoned his shirt quickly and started pulling tiny shards of glass out of his chest. Only when he got to a particularly big one and he hissed in pain, they turned back to stare at him, wide-eyed and confused.  
" _Glasses?_ " France choked out in surprise. "Since when do you-?"  
Prussia huffed angrily to interrupt him. "What do you think?" he grumbled as he gingerly brushed his fingertips over his chest, trying to feel if there was any glass left. Well, nothing that he could get out with his bare hands, anyway, so he buttoned his shirt back up with a sigh; he'd noticed Belgium's expression change to one of guilt when her gaze had fallen on her cousin's ribs, which were rather prominent on his thin frame. The Prussian gritted his teeth. "Germany isn't the only one whose health has taken a turn for the worse with the economy as it is now." He heaved himself to his feet, with a little help from Scotland when he nearly stumbled due to the pain in his back. Eyes focused on his now useless glasses, he sighed yet again. "Thanks a ton for that, America; I can hardly read a thing without those and I can't afford a replacement."  
America was speechless for a moment, staring at Prussia with his mouth hanging open in shock. Then he shook his head quickly. "No, shit… Shit, dude, I… I didn't know. I'm sorry, I'll… I'll pay for a new pair, all right?"  
Prussia shook his head slowly, already starting to walk away on unsteady feet, stumbling a little. "Don't bother…" he brought out weakly, feeling a lump in his throat by now. He stopped walking as he passed France, glancing at him with a defeated gaze. "I hope you enjoy murder more than I do," he choked out, barely audibly so. Then he walked out of the room.

Prussia was trembling as he stumbled through the hallway. He couldn't believe what had just happened in the past few minutes. He didn't _want_ to believe it. What must they all think of him now, after he'd shown such weakness in front of them? Too weak to be able to deal with the economy, too weak to keep himself under control when he attacked France and then, the icing on the failure-cake, they now all knew that even his sight was failing him by now.  
Minutes. Mere minutes and he'd ruined his reputation. How would anyone ever take him seriously now? Prussia, the Legendary Black Eagle who got his wings clipped and his talons filed down to harmless stumps.  
He vaguely noticed the door opening behind him, footsteps coming closer. He didn't pay any attention to it, until he heard Scotland's voice. "Laddie, wait a moment," the old kingdom said in a calm tone.  
Prussia shook his head and quickened his pace a little bit. "Don't," was all he could get over his lips, feeling choked up. He wanted nothing more than to be alone right now, but if he started yelling at Scotland, one of the rare few friends he had left… That would make this day a million times worse, yet.  
The Scot wouldn't listen to his friend now, though. Instead, he ran for a step or two to catch up to Prussia then grabbed his arm to make sure he wouldn't get away anymore. Prussia's heart skipped a beat when Scotland spun him around to face the kingdom and then pulled him into a firm embrace in a single, smooth motion. "Don't forget I've known you for about 150 years now, laddie," he said softly, holding the Prussian a little bit closer as he spoke. "If there's one thing I've learnt about how you deal with emotions, it's this: you only lash out like you did when you're hurting. When you're _really_ miserable, you get brisk. When you run away like this…" He sighed and decided to rephrase that. "I remember how you sat in a corner, knees pulled up to your chest and very quiet, on the day that Brandenburg died. You ran away like this on the night your brother died. So my guess is… you just don't run away until it's become too much for you. Am I right?"  
Prussia couldn't answer. Hell, he couldn't even _breathe_. His head was spinning and he closed his eyes. It _was_ too much. The economy was in the worst state Prussia had ever seen it in with no hope for improvement anytime soon. The government was still too instable to be able to do something to solve these problems. There had been strikes, there had been rebellions, there had been attempted coups. Just a year ago he'd been working day and night, and for what? Nothing had changed. It was only getting worse. Now Germany was in such a bad state he couldn't do much of anything and a physician had warned Prussia that the young republic might well have to be admitted into hospital if he didn't improve within the next week. Basically stripped of their most productive industrial area, Prussia feared his little brother might not survive this and he'd just been told, essentially, that he just had to deal with it. On top of all that he just felt _so alone._  
He didn't even realise that he'd started crying until he swung his arms around Scotland, desperately clinging to him. But by then he wouldn't have been able to stop himself anymore even if he'd wanted to. It wasn't long until he felt Scotland shift a little, though he couldn't tell why right away. "Give us a minute, will you?" Scotland said softly, though with an irritated edge to his voice. "The man's really at his limit, can't you tell? Some privacy would be nice."  
Oh, shit. _Shit_. The others could hear him, of course they could. Oh, now he'd done it. If earlier had been bad, this was a true disaster. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't silence himself. Scotland didn't seem to mind, though, which made it all a little bit better to Prussia; at least there was someone who understood how he felt and cared enough to want to help. People who wanted to help had always been so rare in his life. Most of the time, the only one who seemed to really care about Prussia nowadays was Germany, but it sometimes only made him feel worse to have his little brother as the rock he could lean on. It shouldn't be like that. It was just wrong.  
He'd known such happiness in the past. Life had been so good when Brandenburg had been by his side at all times. All the mischief he'd gotten into with Fritz when the human had been a teenager. When he was older, too. He'd had a close bond with some of his siblings and cousins by the time they'd established the German Empire; he could always talk to Hanover and Hesse, Württemberg and Baden and more. Despite the pain over losing Holy Rome and, more recently yet, Saxony, Prussia had been truly happy from 1871 through to 1875. Then it had all ended abruptly. It had all been torn away from him yet again and, sometimes, not even Germany could mend the still bleeding wounds that loss had left on his heart and soul.  
"I miss them," Prussia choked out softly, still crying and pressing his face closer against Scotland's shoulder. "I-I just miss them _so much._ "  
Scotland let out a shaky sigh at this, nodding slowly. "I know, laddie," he whispered comfortingly. "Anyone would. It may sound weird, but… even I miss them sometimes. Europe's too quiet without dozens of rowdy Germans making a racket at meetings."  
Prussia was still trying to bite back his frantic sobs, but he was starting to believe it was hopeless by now. "I-I just… I don't understand… why they died…" He gritted his teeth as that same old grief and anger washed over him like a tidal wave. "I don't even know what happened to them! One day they were just _gone_ and I don't know how or why and I don't get why _I'm_ still here and I… I…" He trailed off, fighting to suppress the heartbroken wail he felt rising in his throat. He couldn't fight it back, however, and he cried out, glad that at least his voice was muffled a bit by his friend's shoulder. "We united so that we could work together," the Prussian whimpered, remembering his joy when he saw how his family became more and more driven to be exactly that, a true family, instead of the mess of constantly arguing countries they'd been for so long. "W-we were supposed to do everything together now. Together… we would've been all right now… we would've found a way…" A fresh wave of sobs spilled over his lips, making it impossible for him to breathe for a little while. By now he felt as if he would never be able to stop crying again. It had been almost half a century and he still felt lost and alone and helpless. "I can't do all this alone, Allistair!" he cried out, all his pain and loneliness put into those few words. "A-and Germany… Ludwig… he's all I have. H-he's all I've got left that's worth living for… I can't lose him as well. I-if something happens to my little brother… If he…" He couldn't finish that sentence, not even in thought.  
Suddenly he heard a very soft, very careful sniffle from Scotland as well, which was the only thing needed for him to finally and rather abruptly be quiet again. Startled, he took a step away from the older kingdom in order to look him in the eyes. The taller man had slightly glassy eyes and hastily wiped away the tiny droplets of liquid in the corners of his eyes. Then he sighed and shook his head. "Sorry 'bout that, Gil," he apologised in a soft voice, only then looking at the younger nation. "It's just… For almost 2 centuries, I've been wanting to help you. We never saw each other much before… well, before Brandenburg's passing. But I do remember how lively you were back then and… there was still some joy in you back then." He took a deep breath before saying more. "Then everyone started dying around you and… I've wanted to help you since that one evening. But in the end, what difference can I make? Or anyone? We can't… we can't bring back your family for you…" The Scot seemed genuinely sorry for that, and Prussia just couldn't let that slide.  
"You've made a difference, Al," the Prussian assured him with a grateful smile, still sniffling between the words. "You've done more than anyone else has over the past century, I believe. You've nothing to feel bad about, I couldn't wish for more than you've already done for me… In fact…" He was quiet for a moment, averting his gaze. "I… I should do more for _you_ in return. To repay…"  
Scotland smiled at this, but he shook his head. "You have more than enough debts to pay off already, laddie," he said warmly. "Consider this one nullified."  
Prussia smiled wider now, too, and he chuckled softly as he thanked the older nation for that. "Honestly, I don't get some people," he added with another chuckle. "How someone can think you're intimidating or look like a brute… Some people do think that, you know? But you're by far the biggest softie I've ever met!"  
Scotland laughed softly now, too. "What I don't get," he added between the laughter, "is how people consider you a war machine. Arrogant, violent and obnoxious, all that crap."  
Prussia nodded, agreeing fully. "I'm all of that, but so much more, too!" he joked. Then he looked at his friend, perhaps the best friend he'd had since Fritz, but whom he had still underappreciated until less than a decade ago. Maybe no one would ever be able to repair his heart completely, but Scotland's stitches held almost as long as Germany's did; Prussia felt a rush of warmth at that thought. He really didn't understand how he had failed to see how dear this kingdom was to him for so long.  
When Scotland stopped laughing just seconds after him, Prussia's breath caught in his throat as he got the sudden urge to try something. He was probably insane for doing this. "Say, Al…?" He was undoubtedly insane for doing this. "Don't… don't move for a moment, would you?" But then, he had many other reasons to declare himself insane already, there wasn't much sanity left to lose now. Whatever was still there might as well be thrown right out of the window now.  
Scotland looked surprised and curious when Prussia asked that of him, but he did as he was asked and stood completely motionless. Even when Prussia suddenly kissed him, although he stood rigid when that happened, tense in a heartbeat.  
It wasn't more than a few seconds until Prussia stepped away again, wondering quietly why he'd done that. Scotland stared at him with wide, almost scared blue eyes, and it took a moment before he could speak. "Laddie," he choked out then, " _what was that?_ "  
Prussia looked at him nervously and shrugged uncomfortably. "An… an experiment."  
"…What's the verdict?"  
The albino smirked a little at the way the old kingdom asked that. "Well…" he began, working out the last bits of that quickly. "I think it's something like this: I love you. Like, I swear to God, Al, I love you." Scotland seemed ready to have a heart attack at those words, and Prussia quickly added to prevent his friend from dying now: " _But_ I'm not going to do that again. Don't feel like it. I just needed to be sure _what type_ of love we're talking about here, and I'm going to stick with the initial thought: you're likely the best friend I've had since Fritz. Better maybe than Hungary. Well… scratch that, you've never tried to beat me up like she has, so forget 'maybe'. Also, if it makes you feel any better," he added more softly, looking away and feeling his face grow warm. "Speaking of Fritz, I, uh… Well… You're not the only _friend_ who's been the subject of an experiment like this. Just be glad I can come to a solid, indisputable conclusion based on just a few seconds right now; the experiment with Fritz needed revision and all that." With a smirk then, remembering the ultimate 'mischief' he and his favourite old king had once gotten into, he stated determinedly: "And I do not regret a thing. 'The Great' was a fitting title, that's all you need to know."  
Scotland was silent for a moment longer, staring at him as though he'd lost his mind. But then he burst out laughing, giving the Prussian a firm, friendly slap on the shoulder.  
Prussia couldn't laugh anymore already, though, and Scotland soon noticed that and fell quiet. He stared at his young friend for a moment, confused, then followed the Prussian's horrified red gaze as it was fixed on a point behind Scotland.  
America stood staring at the two of them, his astonished gaze and slightly open mouth telling them both that he'd been there for longer than they liked. "I-I was going to see if you were all right…" the American choked out, stuttering a little. "Y-you were taking pretty long, so… so…" He trailed off and scratched the back of his head in a nervous gesture. "Uh… bad timing?"  
Scotland grunted at this. "Oh, God, Gil… now you've done it…" He sighed deeply, grimacing. "Thanks a bunch, lad."  
Prussia didn't respond to that. Instead, he walked past Scotland until he stood a few feet in front of America, narrowing his eyes and holding his chin up high. "You, America," he began slowly, speaking very clearly, "you are going to forget everything you saw _right now._ Everything you might've heard, too. Just… just pretend you never opened that goddamn door, you hear me?"  
America, still stunned, just saluted him in a manner that sort of reminded Prussia of when he had trained the young nation for his revolutionary war. "Yes, sir," he brought out weakly, walking back into the conference hall and closing the door quietly.  
There was a moment of silence after that, and neither Prussia nor Scotland moved even e single muscle. Then Prussia sighed. "So, uh… Sorry about that, I guess. And thanks for coming after me, you nosy jerk."

* * *

The next day the nations got more done, though neither Prussia nor the UK could persuade France to end the occupation of the Ruhr. Things seemed to go a little better that second day after Prussia apologised for attacking France the day before. The two nations talked without fighting, though the tension between them was still high. At the end of the day, America really did give Prussia money for new glasses, as he had promised, stating that he knew the Prussian hadn't really meant it when he'd said he didn't need help.  
Eventually, when the meetings ended, though nothing had been solved yet, Prussia did feel just a little bit better. It would be some time before Belgium would forgive her two cousins and it would probably take even longer for things to get better, but no one seemed to despise Prussia and Germany like the albino had thought they did.  
Still, these were the nations who were either killing his little brother or letting it happen, and he couldn't have that. He'd been honest when he'd attacked France: he would never let anybody hurt his little brother. He would never let anyone harm Germany.

It was late at night by the time Prussia got back home. He was longing for his bed, but first he needed to check on Germany. With a yawn he stumbled over to his younger brother's room and opened the door slowly. The republic was asleep, though uneasily so. Prussia watched him toss about for a moment, then sighed and walked over to his side carefully. He was so scared he would wake him that he was barely breathing when he stood beside the younger nation. Tentatively he reached out to brush his fingers against Germany's forehead to check his temperature, although he could already see the faint shimmer of sweat on his skin.  
Warm, of course. Too warm.  
Prussia gritted his teeth in anger. Then why was the house empty? Those blasted liars in the government had promised they would take care of Germany and they left him alone with a high fever. Well, that was officially the last time Prussia would trust any of them.  
He stiffened for a moment when Germany shifted and opened his eyes, staring at his brother groggily. There was a silence between for a moment, then Germany let out a soft, long sigh. "How was the conference?" he croaked.  
Always straight down to business, that boy. Prussia cracked a tiny smile and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring straight at him. "Not so great," he confessed carefully. "But it could have been worse. I… I kind of got pissed off at France."  
Germany grunted, only half-awake. "Did you leave the man in one piece?" he asked dryly.  
His tone made Prussia snort. "Sure I did; America was playing guard dog. Honest to God, they almost didn't leave _me_ in one piece. But the important thing is that the French aren't going anywhere, I'm afraid. Not for a while yet. So we'll have to find something else."  
Germany nodded tiredly. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes again. "Just make sure you rest up," he mumbled, sounding so far away that Prussia thought he would fall asleep within seconds again. "You're not doing well, either. Go to sleep."  
Prussia nodded, but just when he was going to get up, Germany grabbed his wrist. "Don't be angry at them," he whispered, voice slurred with sleep. "I sent them away this evening. I knew you'd be back tonight or tomorrow… that's why."  
Prussia stared at him, biting his lip on the inside, but he nodded. _They could've just ignored that, though, if they'd had common sense._ He stood there a moment longer, then took a deep breath. "Do you mind if I stay here a little longer?"  
Germany huffed and turned onto his other side. "So long as you don't bother me…" Then he was already back asleep.  
With another tiny smile, Prussia shoved a little further onto the bed to sit more comfortably. Looking at his little brother now, he was even more sure of his words. He needed Germany, Germany needed him. He couldn't let anything happen to his little brother, he couldn't let anything happen to himself because then he couldn't be there for Germany anymore. It was like that when you had only each other as family. You only had each other to depend on.  
Perhaps it really was time to admit he would never be able to find the person who had murdered the rest of his family. But he'd be damned if he let France, or anyone else, harm the last sibling he had left.  
 _If something happens to you… If you ever end up getting killed by any of them…  
This time, I swear, I __**will**_ _make them pay._

* * *

 **So shit's going to go down.  
**

 **Game time, maybe? If anyone can guess the next massive bomb of drama that's going to drop, that would be awesome as Prussia ;)**

 **Unfortunately I can't do actual prices ^_^'  
Thanks for reading and I hope you liked the chapter!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi again!**

 **A big thank-you to everyone who favourited, followed and/or reviewed! Really, thank you so much!  
Guest: yeah, I'm afraid I didn't really look into most of the other states in detail much... sorry about that! And darn, that sure is a grudge... wow. (Just wondering how anyone can sleep if they have a lullaby like that sung to them... I'd be pissing myself if I was a young child and someone sang that to me 0.o')**

 **Anyways, here's a long chapter for once. Like, over 8000 words long. That's a first since CYH, I believe.**

 **I hope you'll like it!**

* * *

Against all expectations, 1924 proved to be a year of hope after all. The American government initiated what was known as the 'Dawes Plan', a plan in which America would give economic support to Germany. They hoped that, with this economic boost, the German government would be able to pay off more of their debts to France and the others, which in turn meant that the former Allied countries could pay of their debts to America. Another motive the Americans had, was that they hoped to restore Germany's power in Europe, to balance the continent out more; France and the United Kingdom were the two absolute superpowers in Europe at the time, and America hoped to change that.  
Another measure that was taken by the German government itself, was the creation of the Rentenmark, a new currency to replace the worthless Papier mark that they'd had before. Later in 1924 this was changed already, however, when this new currency proved to not have the desired effect. The replacement for this currency was the Reichsmark, which worked a lot better than the Rentenmark already. Still, it wasn't perfect.  
Later in this decade there were also more steps taken to reach complete peace in Europe at last. In the Locarno Treaties, the Weimar Republic and their former enemies reached a final accord concerning borders, at least in the west. The territorial changes in the east, which were decided on in Versailles, were still a matter of debate. For one, the territory East Prussia was separated from the rest of Germany by what was called the Polish Corridor, Prussian land that had been ceded to Poland after the Great War.  
A year later, in 1926, the Weimar Republic was accepted as a member of the League of Nations, an organisation to preserve peace and improve international relations, one that the German nation hadn't been allowed to join when it was first established after the Great War.

The situation was improving considerably, though Germany and Prussia knew better than anyone that, beneath the surface, the loan from America only meant that their debts were building up. Their economy depended on America's, and anyone with half a brain knew that such economic dependence brought enormous risks.  
This became evident when, after 5 years of relative stability and improvement, the American economy crashed, dragging Germany's into the depths with it.

Following the Economic Crash of 1929, certain extremist political parties in Germany started gaining popularity. The NSDAP, also known as the Nazis, promised to right the wrongs that had been done to the people of Germany and to bring solutions for their troubles. Germany didn't trust it much, whereas Prussia didn't trust them at all. Their leader, a loudmouthed Austrian named Hitler, had been a troublemaker since before the end of the Great War. He'd even been imprisoned for his rebellions and attempted coups, yet here he was, bluffing his way into the Reichstag, the German parliament, by September 1930.  
These troubles also caused tension to build up between Germany and Prussia, something which they had both hoped would never be the case. Germany just hoped for peace and quiet and an opportunity to find solutions for their latest problems, while Prussia's reaction to all this bad news was a more aggressive one. He cursed America for making them so dependent on his economy then dragging them down with him. He threatened their former enemies (though thankfully never directly), he frequently got into fights with random members of the NSDAP on the streets. One day, when Germany had muttered in complete exasperation that, if the Nazis could at least solve those incessant migraines the political turmoil caused him, he'd vote for them in a heartbeat, the Prussian had started yelling at him. The argument that had followed had been so bad that Prussia had left in the middle of it. He hadn't gone back home that day, or the day after, and only after a week did Germany receive a call from his elder brother, who told him he'd gone to Königsberg to blow off some steam. He added that it was probably best if Germany didn't follow him there.

It was in the 30's that the League of Nations commenced the Geneva Disarmament Conventions, in which the League was trying to do what couldn't be done in the Hague Peace Conferences the century before: to limit arms in the world in an effort to get closer to achieving world peace.  
But of course, achieving peace with a frustrated Prussian around was a difficult thing to do. More often than not, he would end up fighting with France or Austria, most commonly though he fought with Russia. Only verbally, of course. Germany never failed to restrain his brother when he was about to attack someone for real. Scotland, of course, was a real help in that, too. Unfortunately the Scot wasn't always there, taking turns with England who would attend the meeting this time. Wales was never there, though; the British Isles, even Ireland, stated that the Welshman was very good with Northern Ireland, their newest addition to the family, and someone had to stay and look after the little tyke.  
Prussia thought it was because Wales didn't have the status his brothers did, being a principality within the United Kingdom. He asked Scotland about it once, when he got the chance, but his friend never told him anything else than what the rest of the world was told, so he figured they were telling the truth after all.  
All in all, though, the conventions didn't lead to anything solid, which was why they went on for year after year.

* * *

It was 20 July 1932 when Germany and Prussia were in Geneva yet again for another meeting. This year had been focused on limiting naval arms in the world, and for once it seemed like there was actual progress being made.  
The two brothers knew well before the meeting started, while they were having a conversation with Switzerland and Liechtenstein, that whatever the outcome would be today, this meeting was not going to be a good one for them. Least of all for Prussia, who at that moment felt like someone had decided his skull was a good place to store a cleaver in. With the Prussian government in turmoil and an outburst of violence between Nazis and communists in Prussian territory only days before, it was Prussia's turn to have a bad migraine.  
Germany, knowing all too well by now how bad such headaches could get, felt sorry for his elder brother when the albino sat with his eyes shut tight and his jaws clenched together firmly, hand gingerly rubbing his forehead a bit. The younger nation sighed. "Are you sure you're well enough to go to the meeting today?" he asked for at least the fifth time that morning. "I also didn't always go when I was this bad, remember? I'll be just fine on my own today, really."  
But Prussia stubbornly shook his head. "I'm good, really," he insisted feebly. He sounded as far from convincing as could be. "Some distraction will probably… probably be a good thing, too." He didn't say anything else after that, but the free state's slow and deep breathing made it clear that he was battling extreme pain right where he sat.  
Germany sent his cousin a desperate glance, and Switzerland sighed. "You know," the smaller nation said reluctantly, "you're welcome to stay here for the duration of the meeting today, Prussia. You do look bad." The Swiss then looked back at Germany, sighing deeply and clearly showing his disapproval. Although this angered Germany, the republic also knew that his cousin would never leave anyone in such a state without genuinely offering help. Especially not his family, though for the sake of his neutrality, Switzerland would never admit that part.  
Liechtenstein shifted where she sat when Prussia didn't respond to her brother's offer, adding in a careful voice: "I'm staying here, too, so you wouldn't be alone." She smiled warmly, but Germany could clearly see the apprehension in her gaze. Was it something to do with Prussia? The young nation didn't get it. Sure, his elder brother had been a difficult person to get along with for the past few years, even he agreed with that now, but surely he wasn't bad enough for anyone to be reluctant to be in his presence.  
But then, when the girl offered to make him tea, saying it might help with the headache a bit, Prussia snorted, giving Germany a much clearer idea why Liechtenstein and Switzerland were reluctant to keep him there. "How's bloody _tea_ going to be any good?" Prussia muttered, half to himself, but Liechtenstein flinched at his tone as if he had just slapped her in the face. Prussia, however, didn't seem to realise what he'd done wrong, because he didn't even look up.  
Switzerland cleared his throat loudly, straightening himself until he sat with his back as straight as a board. "Well then," he said to Prussia with a sharp edge to his voice, "good luck at that meeting, Prussia. I would say I hope you get an actual fissure in your skull, but then I'd have to wish that on everybody, and that's too much work. Not to mention unfair on all those nations who _do_ have manners."  
Germany didn't know very well _how_ Prussia did it, but somehow he managed to make it even worse. "Shut it, Switzy," he grunted, placing his face in the crook of his arm now and taking a deep breath. "If you don't have any good jokes, don't even try."  
Those words and a handful of comments later, Germany found himself on the porch of his cousin's house with Prussia trembling lightly by his side. The younger of the two brothers stared at Switzerland apologetically. "I'm so sorry for all that," he said in his brother's stead. "I don't know what came over him. He's not been himself for a while now." He knew that these apologies wouldn't do much, especially since they didn't come from Prussia himself, but he had to try. Prussia was his brother, after all, and Germany felt responsible for anything the older nation did, to a certain extent.  
Switzerland only huffed, green eyes flashing with anger. "It's not your job to say these things, Germany," he only grumbled in response, glaring at Prussia after that. A few seconds later, he sighed and turned back to look at Germany again. "Also, you're wrong," he added. "I don't know what rock you've been living under, but he's _always_ been this unpleasant. Rude, loud and annoying." Shaking his head disapprovingly, the Swiss took a step back, grabbing the door to close it. But before he did so, he said one last thing: "I don't know where you got your manners from, Germany, but it's not from your brother." Then he went back into his house and closed the door, disappearing from sight.  
Germany sighed. Sometimes he wondered the same thing, really. He had always been so sure that he was exactly what Prussia had raised him to be, but the past few years, ever since the second economic crisis had started, he was beginning to doubt that. Because how could the older nation be so different from how he had raised his little brother?  
Feeling a surge of anger, Germany rounded on Prussia and slapped him over the back of his head. "Can't you just be polite for once?" he demanded angrily, his shoulders tense.  
He was going to say more, but Prussia whimpered feebly, both at being hit like that and because of his brother's loud voice, which made Germany realise again the pain his brother was in. It did explain why Prussia was so brisk with everyone right now. Still, though… "You could've at least thanked them," Germany went on, more quietly now, as he pulled his brother along. They would be early for the conference now, but maybe that was for the best, with Prussia in this condition. "They were only being kind to you, offering help and a place to rest and get better, and what do you do? For Heaven's sake, Gilbert…"  
Prussia grunted and shook his head defiantly. "I said I'm fine!" he protested, but his voice still sounded weak with pain.  
Honestly, was he talking to a child?! " _No_ , brother, you're not!" Germany insisted, staring at Prussia with a look of disbelief and frustration. "Honestly, why do you find it so difficult to admit you're not well? _Ever?_ You always say you're fine, even when it's obvious that you're not. You push yourself to your limit and even then you want to keep going, and what for? If there's one thing the past decade has taught me, it's that we all have _limits_ , and it's best not to cross them." He growled in pure frustration for a moment, his grasp on his brother's wrist tightening so much that Prussia winced and tried to pull himself free, but Germany wouldn't let go. "Even with your eyes!" the younger nation went on. "If Italy and I hadn't insisted on it so much that day, you would still be in denial that you can't even read without your glasses. Hell, at any meeting you're _still_ in denial of it -you've never even worn them at any meeting of the League! Do you need to go blind before you admit your sight's not what it used to be? Do you need to collapse before you realise you need to rest? Honest to God, you're insufferable sometimes, you're _that_ stubborn." He was quiet for a moment after that, and he heard Prussia was just about to reply when Germany went on in his anger, giving his brother no chance to speak. "You know what? For once, I hope you really _do_ collapse or something of the sort. That, once we come back home, you'll just flop into bed and won't be able to get out for a day or so. Maybe then you'll stop being stubborn."  
While he was talking, Germany felt Prussia tug on him to free his arm, increasingly quickly so. It was beginning to feel like a rather desperate attempt by the time the younger nation stopped talking, but he hardly noticed it. He only really realised his brother's attempts to get his arm back -and with it the chance to move freely- when Prussia hastily pushed him aside with his free arm and dashed in front of him to reach the hedge on Germany's other side. With his arm at an uncomfortable angle like that, the Prussian promptly threw up there, and Germany quickly let go of him.  
Prussia stood shaking when he was able to breathe again, whimpering yet again. "It hurts so much…" he said in a weak, high-pitched voice, sounding like he was on the verge of tears as he pressed his hands to his head.  
Germany then realised he'd never seen his brother show so much pain. It must be extremely bad for him to be like that. Maybe he shouldn't be so hard on him, not right now at least. He stared at Prussia a moment longer, but he couldn't bear to look at him for long when he was like this. With a sigh, he grabbed the Prussian's arm again and pulled him close, hugging him gently. "You fool," he said in a soft, gentle voice. "You should've taken up Switzerland's offer when you still had the chance, and _not_ been so rude that he'd kick you out like he has. You've got no choice but to come anymore, now." As he said this, Germany felt a spark of anxiety. He knew Prussia had a very high threshold for pain, so the pain he was in now must be near unbearable. Had Germany just had it easy, then? He couldn't remember his own headaches, not even those that could be classified as a migraine, ever being this bad. What was going on in his brother's government?

* * *

Some nations commented on Prussia looking even paler than normally, but most ignored him completely as the conference hall filled with nations when the meeting was about to start.  
Germany looked at his brother beside him one last time before the meeting would begin, thinking for the millionth time that he really should have stayed with Liechtenstein. If only he could've kept his mouth shut. "'Just try to look alert," he told Prussia under his breath. "Maybe make some notes. I'll make sure you won't have to speak or anything, all right?"  
Prussia nodded, lips pressed together tightly. He stared at his little brother for a moment, then forced a tiny smile. "Thanks, Ludwig," he croaked in a whisper. "Really." Then he turned to look at everyone else, adding quietly: "Who knows? Maybe it'll get a little better as we're working, after all." But his eyes told Germany that Prussia knew as well as he did that, with how chaotic the world was, that was never going to happen in this company.  
The meeting started with England giving a speech about how, if every nation had a limited navy, the oceans would be a more peaceful place; they were meant solely for transport of people and of goods, not for warfare. Germany heard a snort somewhere on his right, and a soft mutter: "Rich, coming from a former pirate." That comment made even Germany huff with held-back laughter for a moment. He hadn't been there for the whole affair, it had all been centuries before he'd been born, but he'd heard plenty of stories. England seemed to realise how weird it was for him, of all people, to hold this speech, too. He looked more uncomfortable than Germany was used to seeing of him.  
The meeting went on after that speech. Nothing seemed to come out of it today, however, and Germany soon found his mind wandering. Thankfully he knew how to look like he was paying attention, but he just couldn't really focus if he knew that nothing useful was being done, anyway. He was still fascinated at every meeting of the League; he saw so many nations that he had never dreamt of meeting. One of the nations to have a moment in the spotlight today was Canada, America's brother, whom not even Prussia had ever met before they were let into the League of Nations. It was hard to tell who was America and who was Canada sometimes, until they would open their mouth. They almost reminded Germany of Prussia and himself: America was the elder brother, loud and rowdy and energetic, whereas the younger Canada was more quiet and reserved. Almost like Germany and Prussia, but not quite.  
Prussia must have realised then that nothing important was going to happen anymore at this rate, because he'd given up the effort of taking notes by now. He rested his chin on his arms and closed his eyes, sighing after a little while. "I feel sick…" he complained in a barely audible whisper. "Ludwig, how long until this is over?"  
"You have a watch," Germany reminded him in response. Canada's speech was actually interesting and he wanted to follow it.  
"You know I can't read that thing without those accursed glasses," was his brother's reaction, though.  
 _Then stop being stubborn and wear your glasses, damn it._ Instead of saying this, Germany bit back an exasperated sigh and checked his own watch. "It's due to end in about 80 minutes," he told the albino nation. "Just over an hour; can you make it that long?"  
Prussia nodded quietly, not bothering Germany anymore after that.

Well, not until France stepped forward to speak and noticed the position Prussia was in about half an hour later. Even from a distance, Germany could see the old nation roll his eyes. "Prussia, wake up, will you?" he said loudly, and Germany realised he was purposefully making sure every nation present would now pay attention to Prussia, on the one day that the albino _couldn't_ handle being the centre of attention. Germany bit back an angry retort when France went on in a sneer: "What's the matter, _petit garçon?_ Getting bored? Well, at least you've reminded the entire world of your short attention span, thank you for that. You've spared me some trouble." He seemed to be waiting for a response from Prussia, but that didn't come. Confused and agitated, France taunted the Prussian some more. "Well? No retorts today? No blood going to be spilt? Amazing. You always blow up over the silliest things, after all. It seems like you've learnt to control that easily flammable temper of yours. Good for you."  
"Ssshh…" Prussia then grumbled in response, not looking up. His voice was slurred and it seemed like he struggled to speak, which unnerved Germany a bit. "Ssh…shut up… Damn Fr… Frenchie…"  
Even France seemed surprised. "Sleep talking?" he asked hollowly. "Come on, Prussia, can't you do without alcohol before noon?"  
" _Shut it!_ " A shockwave seemed to pass through the room when Germany snapped at France like that, and the Frenchman flinched, staring at the young nation wide-eyed. He hadn't seen this coming, and it seemed like no one had expected Germany to react aggressively for once, either. Germany couldn't care less: his brother was in trouble, that was all that mattered to him now. "Leave him alone, France, or I'll do the punching in his stead, got it?!" He then turned to Prussia, his heart pounding against his ribs with distress. He tentatively laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Gilbert?" he began in a soft voice. "Brother, are you all right?" No reply, only an agonised-sounding grunt. Germany stared at Prussia for a moment, then decided that this was the limit, even for himself.  
He turned to the rest of the League, apologising quickly. "He hasn't been well for a few days," he explained hastily. "Please, if you could allow us to leave early, I'd be forever grateful. My brother really can't stay here anymore, he needs to rest."  
Prussia shook his head with a soft whimper. "L-Lud…" he brought out with great difficulty. "No… fine… can stay…" After saying that, however, he involuntarily let out a long but thankfully quiet moan.  
That was it. It was more than enough now. Germany wouldn't even wait for permission to leave anymore. He got up, holding out his hand to help his brother to his feet as well. "Come on, Gil," he urged him on when Prussia only stared up at him with dull eyes. "We're leaving. Come."  
Prussia shifted, moving his arm but not lifting it to grab Germany's hand. The younger nation could see his red eyes widen slightly, something flashing in them, as he stared at his arm for a few seconds longer. Then he finally took his little brother's hand, though his movements were slow, also when Germany helped him to his feet right after. The Prussian stumbled, losing his balance the moment he was out of his chair, and bumped into Germany. He made a few noises that Germany thought were meant to be an apology as Prussia struggled to regain his balance, but the republic couldn't even make out any words. His heart skipped a beat at this, and it seemed to stop altogether when, a second later, his elder brother's knees buckled and he fell to the floor, his hand slipping from Germany's grasp.  
Others seemed able to react quicker than Germany could, as he was stunned and terrified for his brother the moment Prussia hit the floor. "What's going on?!" someone exclaimed, sounding shocked.  
Someone else apparently thought Germany had the answer to that question. "Germany, what's the matter with him?"  
Germany ignored their frantic questions and knelt down beside Prussia, scooping him up and holding him in his arms. He gave his brother a gentle shake, trying to get his attention, but the albino's red eyes were closed and he didn't even move a single muscle. Hit by another wave of terror, Germany adjusted his hold on the Prussian quickly and pressed one hand to his chest. He could still feel him breathe, and after a moment's search he also found his heartbeat, though he couldn't say that either was very strong.  
The first to reach Germany's side, just seconds after Prussia had collapsed, was Spain. The kingdom was staring wide-eyed at his old friend, looking as scared as Germany felt. "Is he responding at all?" he asked breathlessly. He knelt down beside the two Germans when Germany shook his head, not taking his eyes off his brother. Spain lightly touched Prussia's cheek as if to check his temperature, then sighed softly. "You said he hasn't been well for a while now," he said in a more calm manner now. "In what way?"  
Germany tried to swallow, but he felt as if his mouth was about as dry as the Sahara. "B-bit of a political mess," he answered shakily, hoping not to give too much away. He knew Prussia wouldn't like it if he made his brother seem weak. _But then, he's already collapsed like this in front of so many nations, how much worse could it get, anyway?_ "So he's been having headaches and just hasn't been feeling well for a couple of days now." He glanced at Spain briefly, but quickly turned back to look at Prussia. He still wasn't moving. "B-but I… I don't know what's going on now…"  
He didn't realise Austria, Netherlands and Hungary were running to him as well until they stood by him, surrounding the young German and his brother; Spain had stepped back to let them pass. Hungary looked as if she could pass out from sheer worry. It was Netherlands who looked calmest, so he was also the first to voice the one thought they all shared: "He should probably be taken to see a doctor," the Dutchman said in as calm a voice as he could manage; only the slightest shiver in his voice betrayed his worry and distress. "The sooner, the better." Then, before anyone could respond, he turned to look at all the other nations. "Anyone got a problem with that?" he asked rather loudly, making it very clear that he wouldn't take no for an answer. "Germany's got to take the man to hospital, understood? I anyone has any complaints about that, they'll have to answer to _me_. Am I clear on that?" There were no protests from anyone, not so much as a squeak.  
Meanwhile, Germany got to his feet again, carrying Prussia in his arms. Hungary and Austria helped him with the free state and keeping his balance. "I came here by car," Austria said quickly as he helped his younger cousin up. "I can take you to the nearest hospital, all right?"  
Unable to speak well, Germany nodded and choked out a soft, taut thanks. No one said anything about it when Austria started to leave together with Germany and Prussia, but before they were out the door, England's voice came from behind them, sounding apologetic but resolute at the same time. "Hungary…" Germany halted for just a moment. "I'm sorry, Hungary, but it's best if you stay here," England said carefully. "I understand why you want to go with them, but… To put it bluntly, Hungary, Prussia's not your family. I'm sorry."  
France seemed to agree when he added: "I get that we've all got a good startle from this, but somehow we'll have to finish this meeting."  
Germany looked over his shoulder to see Hungary stare at him, teary-eyed with panic and trembling, but she just took a deep breath and nodded. She did step forward to give Germany a quick hug and to hold Prussia's hand for a few heartbeats, promising in a hoarse whisper: "I'll come your way the moment we're done here, all right?" And to Prussia she added: "Hang in there, Gil… please…"  
Then she reluctantly turned back and went to her seat again, and Austria and Germany didn't waste another second to get help for Prussia. If only he knew what was going on… There wasn't a thing in the world he longed for more right now. He just needed to know what was wrong with his brother.

* * *

The wait in the hospital was one of the longest Germany had ever experienced. Prussia had been rushed away by the staff there basically the moment Germany and Austria brought him in, and since then the only thing the two cousins had been told was that they were still running tests, that they had no conclusive diagnosis yet. Not to worry; Prussia was in good hands. The free state appeared to at least be in a stable condition. Sorry, but they had to be patient.  
None of those words had eased Germany's worry or taken away the nausea he felt as he tried to imagine what must have happened for Prussia to react like this, or what was going on with his brother. This was no mere headache anymore, and surely not even the worst migraine could cause a person to lose consciousness and become completely unresponsive?  
Another thought that was eating away at him, was a memory of that afternoon. _You know what? For once, I hope you really do collapse or something of the sort._ Why had he said such a thing? Now it had come true, and it was one of the worst things he could think of. "What if…" he choked out without even really knowing it. "What if… somehow… _I_ did this?"  
Austria, who had been lost in thought, looked up at this, staring at his young cousin with a questioning frown from where he sat opposite of him. "Why would you think that?"  
Germany swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. "This afternoon, before the meeting, I… I got really fed up with him," he confessed in a tiny voice. Even if this hadn't happened because of him, and honestly, he really doubted it did… he still felt guilty. What must Prussia be thinking? If he was capable of thinking at all right now, that is. With a shiver going down his spine, the republic went on: "I was so angry that he's always too stubborn and too proud to admit he's not feeling well… I told him that I…" He trailed off, biting the inside of his lip for just a moment and taking a deep breath, sighing deeply before he could bring himself to finish the sentence. "I basically wished this on him. I told him I hoped he would collapse from sheer pain or sickness, just so that, for once, he would have to admit he wasn't in perfect health." Even after admitting this, he still felt shaky. He figured it would be that way until he knew what was wrong with his brother, and even then it was likely to lessen only if it was good news.  
Austria shook his head slowly, leaning a little closer to Germany and looking him straight in the eyes. "Ludwig," he began in a gentle tone, "you know this has nothing to do with you. There's no way this happened because you said that. You know it doesn't work like that." Germany only nodded, and Austria straightened his back again, getting up mere seconds later and sitting back down right beside Germany. "He'll be fine, Ludwig," the older nation said then, sounding utterly convinced of it. "What that man has gone through and survived… I doubt there's anything that can harm him too badly, least of all kill him. He's switched capitals more times than I could imagine doing. Did you know that such a thing is actually straining on our bodies? He just does it, just like that, no harm done. He's lived through sieges on his capital, he's survived the worst famines in history, he's spent more years of his life at war than he has at peace, I believe. He's been burnt at the stake, impaled on a sword, shot through the heart, _and he's still here._ " The Austrian shook his head again and finished determinedly: "That man is unbreakable, mark my words. If not mentally, then physically, but he's closest to being truly immortal of all of us, I've no doubt. Not after what he's survived so far."  
Germany nodded quietly. Austria was probably right. What strength Prussia might lack mentally, he had double the amount in physical strength. And, to be fair, Germany thought, Prussia was fairly unbreakable mentally speaking, too. It had taken a lot, from the stories he'd heard, for the Prussian to reach the instable mind-set he was in nowadays, which honestly could've been much worse yet.  
He probably shouldn't worry too much.  
Trying to distract himself, he decided to just ask about one thing he really noticed only now from what Austria had said. Staring at the older nation curiously, he asked: "Brother's been burnt at the stake? What for?"  
"His albinism, of course," Austria replied with a shrug, as if it was as normal a topic as the weather. "He's never actually _told_ me -he doesn't talk about it with anyone, I suppose, and I can understand why- but I've seen those scars once or twice and… Ludwig, honestly. I was there, I've lived in the same day and age as he has. I know what the people were like back then, and it seems like the most logical explanation. That, or he was trapped inside a burning building or in a forest fire. Witch hunt just sounds most probable, unusual as that may sound."  
Again, Germany nodded. He had never really put much thought into that -what Prussia's life must've been like, as an albino in the Middle Ages. It must have been difficult.  
Suddenly there was a call from further down the hallway. "Oh, there you are!"  
The two Germanic nations looked up to see Hungary running their way, looking flushed; Germany could just about imagine her running all the way here from the conference building. The young woman stood panting a little as she halted in front of them, but her eyes were wide and alert as she stared at them. "So?" she choked out fearfully. "Any news yet?"  
She whimpered softly when the two shook their heads, then she sat down in front of them, on the chair Austria had used earlier. Hungary shook her head in sheer disbelief. "Prussia in hospital… That must be a first."  
Austria nodded, but Germany only looked confused for a moment. His brother had gone through all such terrible, life threatening things, but he'd never been in hospital yet? Wow. He must be even more stubborn than the young republic had thought.  
Hungary then looked up again, her gaze on Germany. "What's been going on to make him so ill, sweetie?" she asked in a soft voice. "Surely you must know at least _something,_ even if it's minor?"  
Germany sighed and shrugged. Well, there was the one thing, of course. "It's a long, complicated story, but in short… his government is basically non-functional right now." He then explained how the former governing coalition had lost their majority in Prussian parliament, and how other potential replacements -mainly National Socialists and Communist parties- refused to cooperate with anyone but their own members, so they could not form a proper government, either.  
Austria sighed deeply when Germany finished explaining. "You fool," he scolded him gently. "That's exactly why this happened, I'm telling you. Here's your explanation. Honest to God, Ludwig, that would get anyone bedridden."

The Austrian looked like he wanted to say more, but he was quiet very quickly when he saw a human approach them -not a nurse this time, but the doctor who had been examining Prussia until now.  
Hungary didn't even give the man a chance to start explaining the situation on his own. "Well?" she asked immediately, standing up out her chair again. "How is he?"  
The human seemed a little taken aback by her prompt reaction to him being there, but he answered very quickly nonetheless. "He'll need to stay here at least until the morning," he began, addressing all three nations. "Preferably another full day, though. Going by your account of what happened," he went on, now looking specifically at Austria and Germany for a brief moment, "combined with our own findings just now… I'm afraid I don't have good news."  
 _Spit it out already!_ Germany bit back those angry, desperate words, staring quietly at the man as he waited for information. He felt his heart pounding in his throat as he sat there.  
The human doctor sighed softly. "My deepest apologies. We have reason to believe he has suffered a brain haemorrhage."  
The world seemed to disappear from under Germany's feet then, and he felt like he was falling into a deep crevice, falling endlessly into the abyss. He couldn't breathe anymore. "Brain… haemorrhage…?" he echoed disbelievingly.  
The human looked at him now, nodding carefully. "A stroke, sir," he clarified. "Bleeding inside the brain." He was silent for a moment then, giving the nations some time to let this information sink in.  
Germany felt lost as he stared from Austria to Hungary and back again. They both seemed as shocked as he felt; Austria had his eyes fixed on the floor but wide with distress, while Hungary stared teary-eyed at the doctor who had brought them this terrible news, hands clasped over her mouth as if to prevent herself from making a noise.  
Eventually the republic found his voice back, though just barely. "W-will he recover…?" he choked out, voice quivering with fear. He couldn't believe his brother had really just suffered a stroke. He didn't want to believe it. Was this a joke? It wasn't a very funny one, in that case.  
Thankfully, there was good news now. "If you mean, will he survive, then yes," came the human's answer, just about mending the deepest wounds this news had carved into Germany's heart. "The full extent of the damage remains to be seen, I'm afraid, but he'll most certainly live. He's been very lucky so far, might I add: many people do not survive a stroke. I see no reason for that luck to end anytime soon." He was silent for a moment again, allowing the three to process those words before he added gently: "If you want to see him now, I see no reason to stop you, but do keep in mind that he won't be awake and that you shouldn't try to wake him, either. If there's anything he needs, it's rest."  
This time it was Austria who replied, nodding anxiously. "Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse with shock and barely audible. Meanwhile Hungary had come to stand beside Germany, holding his hand with trembling fingers of her own. Silently the nations followed the human as he showed them the way.

* * *

Seeing Prussia now eased Germany's mind a bit, even when he reminded himself of why the albino was there in the first place; his brother just looked too calm and peaceful to not feel any sort of relief, as if he was just sleeping. Perhaps the most restful sleep he'd had all week, too. The only thing off about him was the IV in his hand, slowly dripping liquid into his veins. Germany had been told earlier that it was a very light dosage of a drug to help him sleep through the night.  
Austria and Hungary looked a lot more reassured again now, too. The moment he'd seen his cousin, fast asleep and breathing steadily again, Austria had repeated what he'd said earlier: there was no doubt in his mind that Prussia would make a full recovery, and probably more quickly than anyone would expect, too. That would be just like him, the stubborn fool, he'd said.  
It was nearly at the end of visiting hours when Germany realised he should probably let the government know what had happened, and he got up from where he sat beside his brother, saying that he would do so now. This was the one thing he wasn't looking forward to, though. He wondered for a moment if he could ever say those words aloud, 'Prussia had a stroke'. Somehow he thought saying it would make it more definitive, more… more _true_.  
Austria noticed his apprehension at the prospect of having to share the news now, and he got to his feet as well, promising that he'd come with him. Hungary then told them both that she'd keep an eye on Prussia while they were away, although she didn't expect anything to change in that short time; they'd been told the free state's condition was stable, after all.  
Germany thanked them both, then forced himself to walk out of the room with steady paces, Austria close behind him. But the Austrian halted in the opening of the door, and Germany looked over his shoulder to see his cousin gazing into the room, an unreadable emotion flashing through his eyes. Silently Germany followed his gaze, only to see Hungary had gotten up to take sit down where Germany had been, right beside Prussia. She was holding his hand and had just leant over him to very carefully kiss his cheek, sitting back down now while whispering to him in Hungarian.  
Much to his surprise, Austria only smiled at this, before he turned away and went to stand beside his younger cousin, who was staring at him in confusion. With one last glance back and a soft huff of amusement, Austria then went on walking, this time with Germany following him instead of the other way around.  
"Don't be too surprised if those two end up in a relationship sometime after all, Ludwig," Austria said in a soft voice when they were further down the hall, apparently when he was certain they were out of earshot from Hungary. "She's excellent at fooling herself, but others not so much. Not me, at least." He didn't say any more than that as he went in search of a desk where they could ask for a telephone.  
At least, not until Germany asked about this. He'd never had the idea that Hungary had any interest in his brother, at least not the way Prussia did her, and he couldn't quite understand why anyone would think otherwise. "What do you mean by that?" he asked with his eyes narrowed curiously. "If she's ever felt anything for brother, she's fooled me, too."  
Austria chuckled for a moment, and Germany was at least glad to see that he wasn't angry about any of it. Well, of course, he and Hungary had been divorced for more than a decade and they hadn't seemed all too close anymore a few years before that, but the republic would've understood completely if he'd shown any dissatisfaction over it. "I've known Hungary for a couple of centuries, Ludwig," he began explaining, a shiver of laughter in his voice. "She and I have been together for far longer than we've been married, you know? You start to learn things about people when you're living with them day in and day out for years. Every opinion she's ever had about the man, one thing was always the same: she's always had very strong feelings for Prussia, be it in a good way or in a bad way." He took a deep breath and sighed. "He's always been very special to her, and it's honestly not too surprising. Has Prussia told you about how they met? Elizaveta told me about it. She met him when he still believed to be human -no one had ever told him any differently, you see- and she figured out within a day that he was not. She was the first nation he ever met, she was the first person to tell him what he really was. That naturally forged a strong connection between them; Prussia has always admired Hungary since then, in his own… _unique_ way, and she in turn has cared about him ever since that day, even if she would've loathed to admit it for a few decades."  
Germany nodded, understanding it a bit better now, though he still couldn't agree. "If anything," he answered uncertainly, "they always looked more like a squabbling pair of siblings to me." Although that thought made the one instance where he'd seen Prussia kiss the Hungarian rather awkward, or the several times her presence had made him blush for that matter, he really believed they were more like a brother and sister to each other than anything else.  
Austria didn't completely disagree, but he, too, wouldn't change his mind. "The biggest giveaway of all, Ludwig," he stated, his tone clearly indicating that this was the last he had to say on the matter, "was how Elizaveta's attitude towards Prussia changed after he confessed his love to her: she only seemed to get closer with him after that. She would hug him more often, give him these 'friendly pecks' on the cheek, that sort of thing. I'm not saying it will happen, but I'm just telling you not to be surprised if it does. I certainly wouldn't rule it out as a possibility."  
By then they'd found one of the humans who worked here, and Germany completely forgot that conversation in a heartbeat. It had been nice distraction on the way here, but now his heart was pounding in his throat, throbbing against his ribs, and he felt as if his stomach did a few flips. His mouth felt completely dry as he grew the woman's attention. "Excuse me," he said hoarsely. "Is there a telephone I could use? I'm here with the man who was brought in this afternoon -the personification of Prussia." He thought it was best to clarify that, for some reason. Though, with what he was about to say next, it actually made sense that this was important information. He'd just said it on auto-pilot. "I should inform the government of what happened, if that's possible."  
The woman, probably a nurse, nodded and got up, bringing the two nations into a small room behind her desk, where a telephone hung on the wall. She told them in a gentle voice to take as much time as was needed, her eyes shimmering with pity.  
Germany sighed as he thanked her, then grabbed the phone and dialled Von Hindenburg's number, one that he of course knew by heart by now. He just hoped the man was still in office at this time of the day.  
But as he listened and waited for a response, he got more anxious with the second. He couldn't do this. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. He couldn't even bring himself to _think_ that one, dreaded sentence by now. To his surprise and also very much to his relief, Austria took the phone from him before the call was answered, saying nothing but with a look that said plenty: _I'll handle this, don't worry._  
A few seconds later he started speaking. "President Von Hindenburg?" he began with a steady voice. "The Republic of Austria speaking, sir. I'm afraid I have bad news concerning the Free State Prussia."  
Germany felt dizzy as he listened to his cousin retelling the story of what had happened that day. He'd lost that brief moment of being more at ease with it all now. He still struggled to comprehend it all, most of all what the consequences might be.  
 _Difficulty speaking, memory loss, blindness, coma, paralysis, death._ Those were just several of many potential results of a brain haemorrhage, as he'd been told today. While not everyone died from these things, more often than not a person would suffer permanent consequences from a stroke.  
He looked up when he heard Austria put the phone away, his breath caught in his throat the moment he saw the thoughtful look on his cousin's face. "W-what did he say?" he stammered, confused and for some reason scared of what the answer would be.  
Austria didn't reply right away. He stood lost in thought for a moment, then sighed and turned to look at Germany. "He was shocked, of course," he answered. "Worried. He told me that he wanted to know how Prussia's doing by tomorrow, if that's all right with you. But…" He trailed off, that strange look in his eyes returning then. "He was silent at first, after I told him about the stroke, but then he said something… odd. I don't think I was meant to hear, he spoke that softly, but I did…" He shook his head slowly, eyes closed, then took a deep breath. "'What have I done?', is what he said," he then went on, opening his eyes again and staring straight at Germany. "…Something worth looking into, maybe?"  
Germany couldn't answer at that moment. All fear for his brother faded in a heartbeat, replaced by a blazing fury.  
If anyone had done this to his brother, in whatever way, they would regret it. He'd make sure of it.

* * *

 **So, anyone who knows what event I was referring to here? It'll be explained more in the next chapter, anyway. I'm just not too sure if this is a well-known event or not, and also if that depends on the region someone's in and all that...**

 **Anyways, for once I can say that for this idea I have, of all people, my mother to thank. Yeah, weird, I know XD  
Honest to God, I was planning to do something pretty bad to Prussia for this, 'cause that's just what it was for him, but I was toying around with the idea of cancer for a little while (don't kill me) until my mother said that a brain haemorrhage sounded like a logical thing, too.  
And oooooh my stars was she right 0.0 It's political problems, after all, and the brain represents the government and politics in my stories, so... Wow.**

 **To be more specific, by the way, the type of stroke Prussia had was an intercerebral haemorrhage (didn't decide that until just now, when I checked and read that, surprisingly, the symptoms I'd written matched this type almost perfectly... Lucky me, I guess!)**

 **Well, with all that out of the way, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for reading!**


	18. Chapter 18

**So I have another long chapter for you!**

 **Honest to God, last chapter you all gave me some of the most amazing reviews _ever_ , thank you all so so much! Brightens my day every single time.**

 **Well, several people knew what I was going for!** **Also... that's quite a coincidence! "Preussen _schlag_ " and " _Schlag_ enfall"... I didn't look into that, I swear! But I do love it. Thanks for pointing that out!**

 **I hope you'll enjoy this chapter~!**

* * *

The meeting the next day was even more uncomfortable than the one where Prussia had his stroke for all the world to see. At least no one else had known what exactly had been wrong with the albino, so there was nothing to be afraid of in that respect: no one knew just how weakened Prussia was.  
But now Germany had to attend a meeting without his brother, which in turn meant there would be questions that he would be expected to answer. The prospect of this made him feel sick when he walked into the conference hall, Austria by his side for now. Surely everyone would understand that at least, after how stressful the day before was?  
He'd decided he would lie about his brother's condition. There was no need for everyone in the League of Nations to know that Prussia had suffered a stroke and that it was uncertain as of yet what the outcome of that would be. Germany had actually carefully prepared for this, planned every word he would say the night before, when he'd been unable to sleep out of worry for his brother.  
So when Italy Veneziano stared at him the moment he came walking in, the young republic was prepared. Although that didn't make it any easier on him to hear the question, much less to choke out an answer. "Hey, Germany," the Italian greeted him carefully, quiet and considerate. "So, uh… Prussia's not coming today?"  
Before Germany could react, Persia rolled his eyes and snorted. "Have you seen the man yesterday, Italy, or were you asleep?" he said almost mockingly. "He collapsed right in front of us -of course he's not here today, stupid!"  
Italy looked a bit hurt over that, and he huffed softly. "I just didn't want to be too direct…" he muttered, half to himself it seemed.  
This interruption had thankfully given Germany the time he so desperately needed to get his act together. Taking a deep breath, he drew the attention of everyone present. If he let everyone know now, at least he wouldn't have to do this twice. "Prussia won't be back for the remainder of the week," the young German told all the other nations. "He's been ill for a few days and has strained himself too much; what happened yesterday was the result of pure exhaustion, nothing more. He's resting now."  
His heart finally stopped beating wildly in panic when he saw that many, if not all, of the nations appeared to believe his lie. His breath caught in his throat for a moment when Spain asked if he could see how his old friend was doing after the meeting, but Germany just calmly shook his head. "It's probably best if you don't, actually. I'm sorry, Spain, but he's really not feeling well." _Please, don't let that be too much information…!_ After he said this, everyone left him alone about it.

For once Germany couldn't even try to focus on the meeting. He was sure everyone knew how distracted he was, but no one told him off for it. Usually he was the one keeping others in check, mainly his own brother though, and he would have expected anyone to do the same to him. Still, he was deeply grateful that no one bothered him right now. The world could be a mess if such a big part of it was put together in one room, but at least his fellow nations could also be considerate.  
He hadn't heard anything about Prussia's condition since he'd left the hospital yesterday evening. He would've gone for a visit in the morning before the meeting started if he could, but there wasn't enough time to do so. Now he could only wait until the hours-long meeting would end and he could go to his brother again. Would he have woken up by now? And if not, would that be considered a coma, or just long, partly drug-induced sleep? He hoped it would be the latter, in any case. 'Coma' sounded almost as horrifying as 'stroke' did.  
Germany sighed softly, lost in his thoughts and his worries. Some of the rage he'd felt the evening before bubbled up again, too, when he remembered what Austria had told him. If his president had anything to do with all this, he would make sure the man would be out of office as soon as possible. If Prussia would have any of the worst long-term or even permanent effects a brain haemorrhage could have, such as paralysis or blindness or, perhaps, muteness… Germany would tear the old man apart with his bare hands for ruining his brother's eternal life like that. No one should be made to suffer a disability like that, especially not for as long as nations normally lived.  
Honest to God, though, he was already feeling the urge to punch France in the face so hard, the man's neck would snap with the force of it. If he wouldn't die from it, hopefully he would at least be paralysed as Prussia might be. What reason did the man have to taunt Prussia so much? He constantly riled the albino up to the point that he would attack France, which in turn would anger other nations and antagonised them against Prussia because of his 'aggressiveness'.  
Germany gritted his teeth in anger as he watched the older nation step forward to speak. It wouldn't surprise Germany if France was part of Prussia's problems now: if his elder brother hadn't been weakened by all the economic troubles and the sanctions imposed on them by France, among others, maybe whatever happened in Prussia politically wouldn't have had such a grave effect on him.  
And about all the other nations, for that matter, how stupid could they be? Germany didn't want anyone to know what had happened to his brother, mostly because he knew Prussia would hate it if they did, but part of him wished they would figure it out on their own. Maybe not in as much detail as that they would know he'd had a stroke, specifically. But if only they would realise that it was _bad_ , that is was _more_ than just exhaustion. Anyone with half a brain knew that exhaustion wouldn't cause someone such intense pain, combined with speaking impairments and decreased muscle control, only to result in loss of consciousness. It was the last part, where Prussia collapsed, that could be a symptom of extreme exhaustion. The other symptoms he'd shown should have been signs that there was something far worse going on.  
Yet here they were, so many nations, and the majority of them at least was all too happy to accept Germany's story as the truth. That, to him, was a sign of one thing, and one thing only: _complete lack of interest_. They didn't even truly care what had happened to a fellow nation, right under their noses! Germany just knew that it was because almost everyone disliked Prussia, anyway. He wondered, not for the first time, if they would have been as considerate towards Prussia if Germany had been the one in hospital now. Most likely they would have told him off if he couldn't pay attention like Germany now struggled to do. The rare few who showed an interest, like Italy and Spain, wouldn't be able to make much of a difference, if they would even really try to, no doubt. Most of all, Germany was certain that no one would even consider to ask Prussia if he was all right, considering it was his brother who had been in such a bad state that he'd collapsed and been totally unresponsive only a day before.  
After all, no one had bothered to ask _him_ how he was doing after everything that had happened, either.  
Watching his fellow nations busy discussing matters he couldn't follow right now, Germany felt a cold rise inside him, like ice creeping into his veins and mingling with his blood. They all held a grudge against him and his brother, he knew they did. Prussia most of all, yes, but no one seemed to be completely comfortable talking to Germany, either. He knew what crimes the German Empire had committed in the Great War, but they weren't the only ones. Austria had been the first to attack. France had been the first to employ lethal gas. Russia had broken his alliance with France, the United Kingdom and the other members of the Allied Forces. So why was it, that Germany -including Prussia- was held responsible most of all? They, too, had suffered. They, too, were _still_ suffering. To be distrusted like this for something they had only partial blame of was nothing but unjust.  
 _If that's how it works to you,_ he thought grimly, clenching his jaws tightly as he felt rage burn inside him like a cold fire, _then why should I act justly? I won't let you treat me and my brother as outcasts like this, as if we're the only ones in the wrong. If that's how you'll treat us either way…  
I'll show you just how wrong we can get._

* * *

After the meeting, Germany went to hospital again, accompanied by Austria and Hungary. They were talking softly among themselves, all wondering the same thing: would they be able to speak to Prussia today, or was he still kept asleep? When they reached the room Prussia was in, however, the three nations were surprised to find it empty.  
Germany's head was spinning instantly as he wondered, almost frantically, what this meant. After a moment of silence, Hungary was just mumbling to herself that she'd been so certain this was the right room, had they all been mistaken about that somehow? Meanwhile Germany had already spun around and was gazing through the hallway, feeling a strong surge of relief when he spotted a nurse walking in their direction from further down the hallway. "Hey!" he called out to her, without bothering to be polite. That would all come later, once he knew where his brother was. "The patient who was in here yesterday -Prussia; where is he?"  
The woman, a middle-aged human with dark but greying hair, looked up from the paper she'd been reading through, a bit startled. A second later, when she saw the three nations, she looked even more startled yet. "Oh, dear, you must be- You're his family, aren't you?" she asked almost nervously, walking over to them with hasty steps. "I'm so sorry, sirs, miss… We had no way of contacting any of you, my apologies." She cleared her throat for a moment before she went on: "Mister Prussia has been moved to the Intensive Care Unit early this morning; there were some complications during the night, I'm afraid. Nothing too major, don't worry, but it seemed best to keep him under an even more constant, careful watch in case anything happens again."  
Well, those words were none too reassuring, not even after being told not to worry. How could 'nothing major' land someone in the ICU, after all? Austria seemed to be thinking the same thing, for he asked: "What exactly were these 'complications' you mentioned?"  
The human nodded quickly and flipped through the ledger she was carrying and had been reading from just earlier. Germany held his breath until she'd found the right page and started explaining: "When he was brought in yesterday, we believed the bleeding had stopped, but that unfortunately wasn't the case. Such things can happen, sir," the nurse added quickly when Germany opened his mouth to reply angrily to this. "Even with all the technological advancements of the past years, such errors can easily occur, I'm afraid. Prussia had a mild seizure during the night, which is the reason he was moved to the ICU. We considered surgery to relieve pressure on the brain, but after thorough examinations, we concluded such a thing isn't necessary in Prussia's particular case; surgery like that is not without risk, and he is responding excellently to the medication we're giving him. This medication is mainly meant to lower blood pressure and prevent a fever from coming on; fever increases blood pressure, which in turn increases health risks significantly for stroke patients." The woman sighed when she was finished explaining all this, then concluded gently: "Last night was a bit disquieting, but I can assure you that Prussia is doing very well right now, taking all this into consideration."  
Finally Germany could breathe calmly again. He saw no reason not to believe this human, and if she said his brother was all right, then surely he was. He sighed in relief, nodding slowly before he looked up at the nurse again. "Can we still see him?" he asked, dreading that the answer might well be 'no'.  
But the woman only smiled, washing away that fear in a heartbeat. "Naturally. He'll be delighted to see you all, too." She told them quickly that Prussia had woken up just over an hour ago, which made Germany's heart flutter. Going by the looks on their faces, Austria and Hungary felt exactly the same as the human beckoned them. "Come, I'll show you the way."

Prussia lay with his eyes closed by the time Germany and the others reached the room he was in now, but when the four people walked in he looked up in surprise. Germany couldn't suppress a smile at this; his brother was _awake_ again. He'd never thought he could be so happy just seeing Prussia with his eyes open, looking at him.  
The Prussian most certainly had more than just the IV from yesterday now, though: a large machine stood only centimetres from his bedside, and Germany recognised it as a heart monitor after some time. Some other things, too, but he had no idea what they were.  
Still, Germany couldn't be happier at that moment, and neither could Prussia, going by the sparkle in his eyes. The albino grinned wide. "Well, that was about time, wasn't it?" he said, only half joking.  
 _Well, at least he can still speak properly,_ Germany concluded happily as he went to stand beside his dear brother. _That's one thing that's gone well._ For a moment he just stood there, staring at Prussia, almost choking in joy and unable to speak. Then he finally found his voice back. "I'm so glad to see you," he choked out, his voice barely any stronger than a whisper. "I can't tell you how worried I was all day, all night…" Before he could start rambling, he stopped himself and took a deep breath before he would say any more. "How are you feeling?"  
Prussia blinked and shrugged. "I'm… not sure," he replied with a sigh. "I suppose I'm feeling great, if you consider what… you know. On the other hand, I feel like absolute crap; my body is _not_ liking these meds, I tell you." He was silent for a moment then, cracking a wry grin, but that faded rather quickly when he went on: "My left hand's acting funky, too. Though I was told I could have ended up paralysed, so I guess this is also considered 'doing well'."  
Austria stepped up now, greeting Prussia warmly -Hungary joining in with that- before he asked in a gentle voice: "What exactly do you mean with 'funky', if I may ask?"  
Prussia snorted and slowly lifted his left arm, only a few centimetres. His entire arm was trembling as he did, and he sighed. "See for yourself." He bent his thumb, then his index finger, and from there on his other fingers started twitching as well. "If I move one," the albino grunted, "I move _all_ of them, which is really annoying. The right's still normal, thank goodness, but you know… left being my dominant hand, that haemorrhage really picked the wrong side of my brain." He let his arm flop down again, looking annoyed for a moment longer, but then he shrugged again. "I've no idea what my legs will do, since they won't allow me to walk yet-" He nodded in the nurse's direction as he said this. "-but at least I've still got feeling in both, so no paralysis anywhere. Awesome, right?"  
"Lucky, more like it," Hungary replied, staring at her friend with shining green eyes. She looked as if she could just about burst out of her skin with joy, and after a few seconds she gave up trying to contain her happiness, bending down to give Prussia a firm but careful hug.  
Prussia seemed surprised at this, his eyes growing wide, so much so that Germany thought they were in serious danger of popping out of their sockets when Hungary ended the warm embrace with a kiss on his forehead. He didn't move for a moment after Hungary had straightened herself up again, then turned to stare at her, wide-eyed and silent. "G-glad to see you too," he choked out eventually, "I… I guess…?"  
The nurse then butted in, apologising quickly for the interruption. She went to stand on Prussia's other side, and he already rolled his eyes at this, apparently knowing what was coming after only about an hour of being conscious. "I'll need to check your blood pressure again, sir," she told him calmly, paying no attention to his obvious annoyance.  
As the woman was preparing the machine that stood beside Prussia, the albino turned to look at his visitors again. "Only for the third time this _hour_ ," he told them with yet another sigh, holding out his arm to the nurse just before she could ask him to do so. "It's like they're obsessed with it, I swear."  
"It's called being careful," the human replied, still as calmly as before, as she pressed a few buttons quickly and turned to look at the little screen on the heart monitor, waiting for a result. "I'll also need to extract some blood for a blood glucose test after this."  
Prussia snorted, unimpressed. "So now I've also got diabetes?" He laughed hollowly. "Well, isn't that just grand!" He sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time already in those few minutes when the woman explained to him that it was a regular procedure for stroke patients. "Yeah, yeah, all right," he muttered softly. "Just get on with it, then." His mouth twisted into a grin again when the machine beeped loudly. "So what's the verdict now, eh?" he asked, suddenly sounding good-humoured again, although that didn't sound too genuine. "Am I dying yet, or what?"  
"Steady improvement," was the short answer. Finally the human seemed to be losing her patience with the nation. "The medicine's doing its job well; your body _does_ like this, no matter how many times you state otherwise."  
"Well, my stomach's not," Prussia protested softly. He was quiet while the woman grabbed the syringe to extract some blood and carefully slid it into his arm, but then he asked flatly: "Speaking of my stomach, am I allowed to eat anything, like, _ever?_ I can't remember the last time I ate. I mean, I know it was yesterday, must've been, but honest to God, I don't remember any of it." He glanced at Germany, Austria and Hungary when they each expressed surprise at this comment, his red gaze slightly apologetic, then focused on the syringe as it filled with his blood.  
The nurse didn't respond immediately, frowning a little after this request. "Are you sure about that, sir?" she asked doubtfully.  
Prussia laughed for a moment. "Not at all! Still, I'm starving, and you never know until you try, right?" He stopped laughing then and grimaced for a moment. "Though, honestly… Please bring a bucket as well, just in case." After admitting that he was nauseous like that, the albino tried his hardest not to look at the nurse anymore.  
She only slid the needle of the syringe out of his arm again, inspecting the tube with blood for a moment before seemingly deciding that it was good enough as it was. "I'll send someone right away, sir," she told Prussia quickly. "The results of the blood test should be here fairly soon, too." Then, with a polite goodbye to Germany, Austria and Hungary, she left the room.

Prussia lay back more heavily on his pillow and closed his eyes in sheer relief, smiling a little the moment that woman left the room. "Thank goodness," he breathed, his voice barely any louder than a whisper. Turning back to his guests then, he stared at them with an almost desperate gaze. "Please get me out of here," he begged them, sounding tired all of a sudden compared to his energetic chattering just a minute before, and neither of the three nations could really tell whether or not he was joking. "I hate this place," Prussia went on, staring past them at the door, his gaze alert and watchful as if he was afraid someone would come in. "They're constantly buzzing around me like a swarm of bees, those humans. Ludwig," he added, looking his little brother straight in the eyes now. "You've done this… this hospitalisation thing before. How long does it take until they stop making a fuss like this?" He shuddered and averted his gaze, closing his eyes with a grimace. "I _really_ don't want anyone fussing over me like I'm…" He didn't finish that sentence, and Germany wondered what he'd been going to say.  
Hungary sat down on the edge of the bed beside the Prussian then, gently grabbing his hand. "They _need_ to fuss over you like this right now," she told him in a soft, very gentle voice, her gaze warm as she stared him in the eyes. Prussia was avoiding her gaze at first, but when she paused for a moment, he looked up. Hungary smiled at this. "Do you have any idea what happened to you, Gil?" she asked him then, out of the blue. "Any idea what it means for you, for all of us? If you did, you would understand why you're under constant watch, why you're getting all that medication, why they won't allow you to get up and walk around as if nothing happened." Her voice was strained by the time she spoke the last sentence, her green eyes glassy, and Germany could tell the young woman was clenching her jaws.  
His heart broke for her then, realising that, actually, it must be even more shocking for her and Austria to see Prussia in this state than it was for Germany, even though Prussia was _his_ brother, not theirs. Unlike Germany, however, they had known Prussia in his prime, while he was at the height of his power; they still described him as being unbreakable, unbeatable, more immortal than anyone else… as he used to be, until about half a century ago. Germany, for as long as he could remember, had only ever known his brother as being strong, proud to the point of being unbearably stubborn at times, but already broken beyond repair. Prussia's heart had been broken long ago, his mind had gotten a few irreparable cracks along the way, too, and his body had started breaking down recently as well. He got sick more easily, his albinism gave him actual, _noticeable_ symptoms nowadays, like with his eyesight… If Prussia had been healthier to begin with, Germany thought sadly, maybe whatever happened yesterday wouldn't have resulted in a brain haemorrhage like it had.

The uncomfortable silence and slight tension in the room then was broken when a nurse, another one than before, came in with a small bowl of lukewarm porridge -and also pail, as requested- and gave both to Prussia. As she did so, the look she gave him was a mixture of amusement, pity and also surprise, but she spoke none of these emotions. Instead, her voice was even and kind when she instructed him to take it slow and added that she hoped he could eat at least a bit of it. Much more than with the previous human, Prussia smiled at her as he said a soft thanks, still looking happier than before even after she'd left again soon after.  
"See," he said with a hint of a chuckle in his voice. "Now there's one person I might actually _like_ in here; of all the things she could've said -and I could tell that the words were on the tip of her tongue- at least _she_ has the sense not to say anything that'll only end up making me feel even more pathetic." He snorted then, but at least he was still grinning as he shook his head with a sigh right after. "I mean, as if it isn't bad enough yet to know why I'm here, it's almost as if every doctor or nurse here wants to make absolutely sure that I know how bad my situation is, how much worse it could have been, and most of all how long it will take to recover."  
Austria forced a chuckle. "I suppose your personality is just written all over you: they know that if they didn't, Prussia, you'd be up and running just as soon as you've properly woken up." After saying this, he ruffled his cousin's white hair a bit, which honestly couldn't have gotten any messier than it already was, anyway.  
Germany, only now realising how little he'd actually said to his brother yet, leant in a little closer to him with a tiny smirk as well. "Just in case, though," he said jokingly, hoping to preserve the pleasant atmosphere now that it had returned, "I'll tell them not to believe a word of it when you say that you're fine every other sentence, all right?" His heart swelled with joy when he saw Prussia huff with held-back laughter. "I want nothing more than to take you home with me and forget any of this ever happened," he added warmly, "but first you need to get back on your feet and be able to _stay_ there." He blinked once, then gave his brother a firm pat on the shoulder. "Now go on, try and eat before it's gone cold," he urged the Prussian gently. "Unless you've changed your mind, that is."  
Prussia quickly protested he hadn't changed his mind about anything, he was too awesome for that, but he looked uncertain as he carefully scooped up a spoonful of the porridge. He didn't hesitate to eat despite that uncertainty, though, and Germany silently prayed his brother would at least be able to eat. He was sure there was a way to prevent him from getting dehydrated or malnourished if he couldn't, of course, but at that moment he couldn't think of anything.  
His heart sank with disappointment when, barely a second after carefully swallowing a second spoonful, Prussia hastily set the bowl aside, almost letting it drop to the floor, and grabbed the pail instead, barely in time before he brought what little he'd eaten right back up. He groaned in discomfort, grimacing at the acrid stench rising up from the pail, but not putting it aside yet; Germany guessed he didn't dare to do so yet. "Didn't I tell you?" Prussia rasped, sounding disappointed as well and frustrated. "I know I need medicine to keep my blood pressure in check right now, but what good will it do if I starve to death because of it?"  
"Maybe you could try again later?" Hungary suggested softly, though she sounded unconvinced as much as Prussia himself did.  
Prussia didn't answer, so Germany offered to take the pail from him and clean it out. Reluctantly the Prussian let him, apologising softly. He didn't say anything else, and neither did Austria or Hungary, as they must have realised what Germany had figured out some time ago: for all his cheerful, energetic chatter earlier, Prussia felt horrible, emotionally probably even more so than physically.  
Eventually the albino sighed deeply, closing his eyes and laying back down, rolling onto his side with his back turned to the others. "I'm going to be stuck here for a long time," he mumbled in a whisper, his voice quivering with emotion, "aren't I?"  
No one could bring themselves to answer that question.

* * *

Germany, Hungary and Austria had been sent away after visiting Prussia for about an hour; they'd been told Prussia still needed to rest a lot, to which the albino of course protested at first. But eventually he admitted that he _was_ tired, so the three left soon after that.  
Back in the room he and Prussia had rented for the week they would have to spend in Geneva, Germany decided he should call up Von Hindenburg and give him that update on Prussia, like the man had said the evening before that he would appreciate. And maybe Germany could get some information out of the human, in return. He felt that same anger as before bubble up inside of him as he waited for the phone to be picked up all the way over in Berlin.  
When finally the old human picked up the phone, Germany immediately started his report of his brother's condition. "He once again acted like he was doing better than he really felt," he concluded eventually. "But that's Prussia; he's just like that."  
"Thank you for telling me, Germany," the old man replied, his voice croaking a little. "I hope he'll recover quickly."  
 _Now or never._ Before his president had the chance to say anything else, Germany forced the question over his lips: "What happened yesterday?"  
A silence followed, lasting so long that the republic had the urge to ask again; he knew Von Hindenburg's mind was clouded sometimes nowadays, the man being as old as he was. But he had heard Germany's question and he answered a second before Germany could repeat it. "I-I issued a decree on Chancellor Von Papen's advice," the German president sighed. "You know as well as I do, Germany, that the Prussian government wasn't functioning. I issued a decree under Article 48." Germany's mind processed this at lightning speed to remember what that specific law was. But he didn't even have to, because Von Hindenburg sighed shakily. "The Prussian cabinet has been dismissed; Von Papen is in control now."  
 _His cabinet was dismissed?_ All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place now. Germany completely understood what had happened, why it had happened. That Prussia's stroke had nothing to do with his slowly declining health at all. This would have happened to him either way.  
Prussia had no true government anymore.

* * *

The next day was the last meeting of that week; by the time Germany came walking into hospital that afternoon, again with Austria and Hungary by his side, he and Prussia would've been on a train back to Berlin if nothing had happened. Now he would be here for God knows how long. He wouldn't mind it so much if it weren't specifically because his brother was in no state to travel.  
He had told Austria and Hungary what Von Hindenburg had told him the day before, and they had both advised him to tell Prussia, but in a very careful way. The Prussian had to know why he could have died, he deserved to know, but it was also important that he would be all right.  
When they reached Prussia's room, all three nations were pleasantly surprised at what they saw: there was a man in the room with Prussia, whom the albino was clinging to with one arm while the human supported him. Prussia was slowly heaving himself to his feet with the human's help, standing on slightly unstable legs but standing nonetheless. Germany thought they were quick to let the free state try this, and Austria mumbled something along the same lines. Prussia didn't seem to agree that it was all that soon, as his eyes began shining when he looked up to see his guests standing near the door. He grinned then, even wider than he had been smiling yesterday.  
"Hey, Ludwig!" he greeted his little brother happily. "We were supposed to go home today, right? You said something about 'when I'm able to stand on my feet again', didn't you?" Germany guessed where this was going, yet he hoped Prussia himself noticed as well that his left leg was starting to tremble. So it wasn't just his left arm that had been affected, after all. Prussia only smiled even wider yet, too happy to even notice, it seemed. "Well, I'm on my feet! Let's catch the next train, little bro!" He laughed a little, showing -finally- that he was joking, but he let go of the human who was supporting him and walked over to Germany before the human could very well stop him. Well, he tried to walk over to him, anyway; the Prussian could only take two steps before his weakened left leg gave out under him.  
Germany crossed the distance between them in a split-second, catching his brother before he could hit the floor. Slowly he helped Prussia back up again, the free state trembling in his arms, wide-eyed and startled. Clearly he hadn't expected this to happen. Germany just sighed and immediately pulled his elder brother into a hug the moment he had him back on his feet, supporting him like that to prevent him from falling again. "You fool," he said softly. "You forgot the part where I told you 'and when you're able to _stay_ on your feet', silly." He could feel Prussia's trembling fade into a gentle shaking with silent laughter, and the older nation put his arms around Germany now, too.  
"It's pretty lonely in here, you know?" the albino sighed softly, whispering. The younger nation nodded, remembering the days he'd spent in hospital in 1916. It really was lonely, to be there on your own all day, to have random people making a fuss over you every move you made yet hardly ever holding a conversation with anyone. Waiting all day for a visit from your brother. It was horrible. Which was probably why Prussia held him a little tighter, pressing his face into the crook of his little brother's neck.  
"Hey, now," Austria chuckled warmly, walking up beside Germany and smirking a little as he looked at Prussia. "Now that you're up and about again, doesn't your cousin get a hug, too?"  
"Not a century ago, you wouldn't have," Prussia replied with a hint of laughter in his voice, letting go of Germany and stumbling against Austria instead, holding him tightly. "Nowadays, I guess I'm fine with it. Just not too often."  
"Agreed." Austria gave his younger cousin a firm, friendly pat on the back, then let go of him to make space for Hungary to greet her friend as well. Germany inspected her for a moment as she grabbed his brother in a tight, warm embrace, stood cheek to cheek with him as she told him in a soft voice how overjoyed she was to see that he was recovering at miracle speed yet again. And then, for just a moment, he believed what Austria had told him two days ago: maybe her feelings for Prussia really were changing from being just friendly to being… more than friendly.  
It was only when Hungary let go of him that the doctor who was there butted in. His voice was gentle as he spoke, but not too patronising; it seemed they were figuring out Prussia's personality a little more and were adapting to it. "I'm sorry to interrupt this, but you should-" he began, standing on Prussia's left and supporting him again.  
The nation cut him off. "I know," he replied good humouredly. "All right, then, hook me up." He struggled a bit to walk the few steps back to the bed, for once looking eager to sit down again. Germany guessed it must feel strange to not have full control over one leg, or one arm for that matter. In fact, it was a scary thought… if your body wasn't fully yours anymore.  
He stood watching in silence for a moment, while Austria and Hungary both grabbed a chair and set it beside the bed, at a little distance as of yet to give Prussia and also the human space right now; Germany finally understood what his brother had meant with 'hook me up', now that he noticed for the first time that Prussia didn't have the IV in his hand anymore. The doctor held his hand, searching for a suitable spot in the nation's veins, then carefully slid the syringe into his white skin. When he took it out again, there was only a tiny tube left under his skin, which was soon attached to the bags with liquid again. As he was finishing up, the doctor was giving Prussia instructions, but once again the albino didn't need them. "Now you should-"  
"Lie down," Prussia finished for him, swinging his legs onto the bed already. "Take it easy. You'll be back in 15 minutes to check my blood pressure." The free state grinned a little nodding before he lay back. "I know, you told me."  
The human stared at him for a moment, then copied the nation's grin. "Good. I'm glad that we've reached an understanding." He said a quick word to the three guests, too, then left for the time being.  
Hungary smiled at Prussia while Germany was grabbing a chair as well. "So, you reached an understanding, did you now?" she asked with a soft giggle.  
Prussia nodded solemnly. "I figured the fastest way to get out of here was if I cooperated," he said importantly, but cracking a grin soon after again. "So yeah, I'll let them do their tests whenever they want to, I'll let them pump whatever meds they see fit into my blood, and in return… Well, they let me try and walk just now. I'll hear what to do about it tomorrow when he comes back, seeing as walking hasn't worked out too well just now." He looked a little scared when he said that, his gaze fixed on his left leg, and he whispered softly, half to himself it seemed, that his leg was even worse than his arm.  
"I'm sure that won't be permanent," Germany assured his brother warmly. "It's only been two days, after all. I'm sure you just need some more time to get everything under control again. And until then, temporary solutions will just have to do." Whatever those solutions would be. Though he could think of one that his brother would not accept. Ever.  
Prussia seemed to be thinking the same thing. "So long as they don't shove me into a wheelchair until my leg listens to me again," he sighed deeply, already annoyed with the mere thought.  
Austria decided to switch the topic away from Prussia's failed attempt at walking then. "How's the nausea now, anyway?" he asked carefully. "Have you been able to eat anything yet?"  
This seemed to cheer Prussia right back up, and Germany felt a wave of gratitude for his cousin's tactful move. "Yes, actually!" the Prussian answered happily. "A bit last night, a bit more with breakfast and I've also had lunch today and managed to keep it all down, so that's going well." He huffed with silent laughter for a moment before he explained more. "That I reacted so badly at first was just bad luck," he told them. "A mixture of things. The medication they're giving me is pretty strong stuff, enough to make anyone feel sick, they told me. Then when I explained to them that I've never actually had any chemical drugs yet -a bit of chloroform once or twice, but that's all… _Well._ Apparently this isn't the best stuff to get your body acquainted with chemicals, you know? So guess what, the solution was to give me _more_ medication yet!" He laughed for a moment then, before gesturing to a bottle of pills and a cardboard cup standing on the other side of his bed, on a small night table between the bed and the heart monitor. "Three times a day, pills to suppress nausea," Prussia said, as if he was introducing his guests to someone. "I've lost track how much shit I'm getting, but in those lovely bags up there is some stuff to regulate blood pressure, regulate my body temperature because apparently fevers can be deadly for me now -the joy- and also something to keep my blood sugar level balanced for as long as I can't eat much. I mean, I've eaten, but it's honestly been less than I usually have for breakfast over an entire day so far, so…" He sighed and shook his head before listing off some more. "Those pills against nausea, anticonvulsants to prevent another seizure… Oh! Also this weird-named stuff that, err… It's not particularly something for my blood pressure, it's _specifically_ to reduce pressure in my brain. Awesome stuff. O-something diuretics. Short version: _lots of meds._ " Looking specifically at Germany now, he added that he would still need to take some of those for a while yet even after coming home again. Germany just nodded and told him he'd been told the same thing yesterday.

When finally the conversation died down a little some 5 minutes later, Germany took a deep breath, feeling his stomach churn. He would have to tell Prussia now. The Prussian looked up at him now, curious now that his little brother looked so uncomfortable.  
Germany had to force the words over his lips. "I spoke to Von Hindenburg yesterday," he choked out, and Austria and Hungary looked a lot less comfortable now, too. "H-he said… he hopes you'll recover quickly…" Now how was he going to tell Prussia what he'd been told the evening before? How was he supposed to explain to his brother that, essentially, he had no government anymore?  
Prussia nodded slowly, waiting patiently for more. Germany was quiet, though, and he eventually asked: "Did he say anything about what might have caused this?" Of course Prussia knew what his little brother was going to say, though he didn't know the details. It was so obvious. Still, Germany couldn't bring himself to say the words, averting his gaze uncomfortably. Prussia narrowed his eyes at this. "He did, didn't he?" he guessed, his voice laced with slight anger. "Ludwig, come on, just tell me."  
"I..." the young republic choked out, shaking his head slowly. "I can't… I don't think you…"  
Prussia huffed now, all happiness gone in a heartbeat. "What?" he demanded angrily. "You don't think I can handle it, is that it?" He sat up then, so that he actually had to look down now to look Germany in the eyes. "Ludwig, honest to God! You should know by now that nothing you're going to say is worse than what I've already heard since I woke up yesterday. Do you think it was such a cakewalk to wake up in hospital, only to be told I've had a goddamn _brain haemorrhage?_ 'You could die', is what they told me. 'You could be paralysed, or have cognitive problems, amnesia, or aphasia,' is what came right after it. Do you think hearing all that was easy? Or that it was easy to find out I don't even have full control over my arm and my leg, that I can barely eat? To know that I'm _not out of the woods yet?_ I can still die, did you know that? I'm doing well now, but I might just as easily make a complete 180-turn and die before the end of the week!" He had his teeth gritted, his eyes wide with both anger and utter terror, then took a deep breath to calm himself. "If I am going to die, Ludwig," he forced over his lips then. " _Please._ I want to know that, if I go, I at least left with some dignity. A valid reason to die, not that I'm too weak to survive one politician punching the other in the face or something. So _please_ , I'm begging you, tell me what happened!"  
Germany's heart was beating in his throat by now, choking him with every beat. But he forced himself to breathe in deeply and then breathe out slowly, looking his brother in the eyes. Prussia's red eyes were shimmering with tears, but he stubbornly bit them back as he stared at his little brother, waiting for an answer. "Y-your government is…" He trailed off and sighed, trying to find a way to rephrase that in way that wouldn't come as a total shock. There wasn't such a way. "Your cabinet has been dismissed, brother. The Chancellor is in full control now. You… basically… don't have a separate government anymore…"  
Prussia didn't answer, only stared at Germany with wide, scared eyes, one of the tears that had formed in his eyes slowly trailing down his cheek now. He didn't say a word, not even when Germany tentatively choked out his name. He just didn't respond at all.  
It was then that the doctor who had been there earlier came back in, stopping and staring at all four nations for a moment. "Is something the matter?" he asked carefully.  
Finally Prussia responded, though only by shaking his head and holding out his arm already. It took him until the human carefully approached him to choke out some words. "Just… do what you need to. Please."  
The doctor silently prepared the heart monitor, but he did glance at the three visiting nations. As he fumbled with the monitor and Prussia's outstretched arm for a moment, he looked at them again. "Did something happen?" he asked them, his gaze intense. "Please, do tell. It's important that I know if anything's wrong." He turned away to quickly press a few buttons on the machine, looking back at them when he was finished with that and waiting for the results to show up.  
It was Hungary he found her voice first. "We… We had some bad news, I'm afraid," she told him in a tiny voice. "We thought… it would be best to tell him about it…"  
A beep. Before the human could respond, he looked at the numbers on the screen, his eyes widening the instant he saw them. Germany's heart skipped a beat at this reaction, and he flinched when the human turned to the three of them yet again. "I must ask you to leave," he said, his voice with a hard edge to it. "Whatever it was you've told him, you shouldn't have." Without saying any more, he then turned to Prussia, taking him off the monitor in a rush and pushing him down so that he lay on his back. "Your blood pressure's sky-high, sir," he told him quickly, rushing over to a cupboard and getting a bottle of liquid and a syringe, filling the latter with the former. "Try to calm down, whatever it is that happened, please. This should also help." He quickly but carefully injected the chemicals he'd just gotten into Prussia, who didn't even try to protest, just let it all wash over him. Just seconds later, whatever that liquid was already seemed to make him a little dazed. The doctor was explaining to his patient what he was doing. "It will make you sleep, Prussia," he said, trying hard to sound calm. "And for now, I'll raise the dosage of osmotic diuretics in your IV, too, until it's all under control again. Don't worry, all will be fine, but you need to rest right now."  
By the time he was finished, Prussia was nearly asleep already, and the human sighed when he was done. Then he turned back to the three other nations, who were staring either at him or at Prussia in shock. "Please do leave," he insisted calmly, but with an urgent undertone in his voice. "And please understand that it would be best right now if you didn't come back today. I don't know what it is you did, but Prussia can't handle stress like that right now, not on top of everything else he has to deal with already. Please go."  
Austria choked out an apology, walking away quickly and pulling Germany and Hungary along with him, as the two other nations seemed too shocked to respond yet. Germany just stared at his brother, fast asleep with whatever drugs he'd just been given, and felt sick as he realised the grave mistake he'd made.  
 _But what else should I have done?_ he wondered desperately. _He deserves to know. Needs to know.  
…His own government is working against him now…_

* * *

 **I'm pretty sure I had more to say right now than what I've done, but I need to study like... _right now_. So I won't write too much here.**

 **Except the usual: I hope you liked the chapter and thanks for reading! Really, thanks so much!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Sorry for being late! I would say I've been busy (actually, I have been for one day over the weekend) but I don't think I have an excuse to be late...  
Does applying to university and all that comes with it count?  
...Pretty please? XD**

 **Oh well. Thanks, all, for reviewing and/or favouriting/following! Still makes me happy every single time~!**

 **I promise, next chapter will be more historical. I just couldn't bring myself to study history for this yet... (sue me)  
(...actually, please don't)**

 **Anyway, I hope you'll like this chapter!**

* * *

" _No, why?!_ "  
"Don't be overdramatic, brother. It's for your own good."  
Prussia watched in silence as Germany threw a packet of cigarettes in the trash, feeling hollow as if he was saying goodbye to an old friend for the last time. Which, thinking about it, he actually was; when the staff at the hospital in Geneva had found out about his smoking habits, they'd instructed him very clearly never to touch another cigarette again. His love for alcohol was also a danger to his health, so for the first time since Germany had reached the physical age of about 14 years, the lock on the liquor cabinet was being used again. This time with the key being in Germany's possession.  
The good thing was that at least Germany would slow down on the alcohol as well, so as to not let his brother stand alone in that. Prussia really had the most awesome, considerate, amazing, lovely little brother in the world.  
Still, having to say goodbye to one of the worst addictions he'd ever had… It was worth pouting over like a little child. "Come _on_ ," he whined to Germany as the young republic binned a second -the last- packet. "It's been a month, I'm doing fine." He sighed, knowing this was hopeless, but he still wanted to try. He was stubborn like that, after all. "One last cigarette won't kill me."  
Germany stared at him silently, his eyes expressionless at first. Then he briefly glanced at the cane Prussia was leaning on, before looking back up to look his brother in the eyes, one eyebrow raised questioningly.  
Prussia stared back in silence, and the two brothers kept that up for a solid minute until the elder nation huffed. "That's just because my leg is as stubborn as the rest of me," he stated flatly as he narrowed his red eyes.  
At this, Germany just rolled his eyes and sighed. "Whatever you say, brother."  
Prussia followed him with his gaze as he closed the trashcan and turned back, looking as if he would sit down but halting in front of his brother and staring back at him. Eventually the Prussian sighed, averting his gaze and looking back at that blasted cane now. He didn't use it all the time, by far not as much as he had done a few weeks back, when the doctors in the hospital had suggested he use a cane to walk a little more steadily than he could without that little extra support. Still, it made him feel weaker than he wanted to feel, and it was a constant reminder of what he'd rather forget. His glasses had been annoying at first, but he'd gotten used to them eventually. This was something he would be glad about when he could get rid of it, finally. He didn't _want_ to get used to this.  
Then, suddenly, he chuckled softly. "I feel like an old man sometimes now, you know?" he said to his little brother, a hint of laughter in his voice. "I mean, except for the wrinkles, I've got it all now! White hair, glasses, a cane to walk with… Even my _age_ fits!"  
To his joy, Germany's eyes twinkled with laughter as well now, though his voice betrayed no such thing. "Sure you are, Gilbert," he said, shaking his head with a grin. "You're _ancient_."  
"I know!" Prussia answered, intentionally making his voice croak on every word. Then he bent forward a little and shakily went to sit down, leaning heavily on the cane on purpose. "Respect your elders a little, young man." Then, having to suppress a grin, he added: "Now get me a nice cup of coffee and the newspaper, young'un, your great-great-grandfather wants to read."  
This time Germany let out a short laugh, shook his head and went into the kitchen, leaving Prussia to stare after him in astonishment. He was actually going to do it, too? The Prussian felt a rush of warmth for the young republic. Somehow, somewhere, he must have done something right in raising his little brother. "Thanks, Ludwig!" he called after him, smiling wide. "You're the best, you know that?"  
"I'm very well aware, thank you."  
Prussia rolled his eyes at this response, snickering a little. Germany had turned out exactly like Prussia in some ways, after all. In other ways, he had turned out better. Much better.

When Germany came back, two cups of coffee in his hands and the newspaper as well. He looked completely at ease when he handed Prussia one of the two cups and the newspaper, something which Prussia hadn't seen all month. The young nation was so worried about his elder brother; since Prussia had been moved from the ICU again after a week, Germany had almost constantly been hovering around him. He would ask at least twice an hour how he was feeling, do everything in his power, it seemed, just to make sure that Prussia was comfortable… Throughout it all, he had looked stressed and scared and worried, even after he had been assured by two neurosurgeons, five nurses and Prussia that the free state was in no danger of losing his life anymore.  
Maybe now that Prussia was back home he could relax a little more, too. More than anything, more even than recovering fully from his stroke, Prussia wanted his little brother to be all right. If he didn't have Germany, what reason did he have to live, after all? The republic was the one thing that made Prussia's life worthwhile, and he would hate to see Germany neglected his own well-being for his brother's sake. Honestly, Prussia wasn't even worth all that trouble.  
"Of course you are, silly," came a voice from beside him all of a sudden, alerting the Prussian. "You're worth all the trouble and more to him. Otherwise he wouldn't do all this for you, would he?"  
Prussia looked to his side, staring at Brandenburg silently. He wasn't even surprised to see her anymore; it had happened more often over the past month. Others, too. They all seemed very interested in Prussia since he'd had his stroke, and he had wondered more than once what had happened to the rules of the dead not being able to visit the living very often.  
Once again, Brandenburg answered this unspoken question. It was as if she could read his mind. "Well, I've told you before, we're always here," she told him with a small smirk. "You just couldn't see us before. Something must have happened that day, because you can, now. Obviously."  
Prussia cracked a grin at this, but he said nothing. The little conversations he had would have to wait until Germany wasn't there with him. He was pretty sure his little brother couldn't see Prussia's conversation partners if he suddenly started talking.  
Brandenburg took a step closer to Prussia, leaning down and looking him straight in the eyes. He couldn't suppress a warm, delighted smile at this. He had missed her so much, for centuries already. While he didn't feel like dying yet, not for a long time yet, he did enjoy being able to see her a bit more often.  
"Brother?" Germany asked him suddenly. Prussia started a little, whipping around to look at him. The younger nation was staring at him through slightly narrowed eyes, brows furrowed curiously. "Is something the matter? What were you looking at?"  
Prussia turned back to look at Brandenburg for just a moment, but she was already gone, and he could only see the window anymore. "Uh…" he stammered a little. "Just… birds." Thankfully there was a flock of birds flying over just now, so it might just be believable.  
To his relief, Germany huffed at this, shaking his head amusedly. "You should get a pet bird, I swear. Obsessed with those animals."  
Prussia smiled at this. "Perhaps I should. But then, you would hate it, wouldn't you? Also, my favourite birds aren't legal to keep as pets anymore," he added with a soft sigh. "Why not, though? Once tamed, eagles and hawks are excellent pets."  
The Prussian grinned a little when Germany stared at him for this, raising one eyebrow questioningly but not saying a word. That, apparently, was a little too weird for him to even comment on.  
The two talked a little after that, only of light-hearted things, as they both needed that right now. They'd had enough of all the drama and worries and pain in their lives. Prussia also took the time to finally open a letter he had received last week, when they had still been in Geneva, so he had only really gotten it today.  
It was from Scotland. The older nation wrote that England had told him what had happened in Geneva -Germany's lied version of it, that is- and that he hoped Prussia was feeling better by now. Also a question: what had _really_ happened, because England had made it clear that he didn't believe what Germany had told everyone on 21 July, when Prussia had been absent for the first time. Prussia had already considered telling his friend about it, but he had decided against it; he just wanted to put all this behind him as quickly as possible and live life normally again.  
He also wrote about how, some time ago already, he and his brothers had taken little Northern Ireland to a photographer. It hadn't been their original plan, but it had ended up being a family picture. Sorry about the quality, he'd also written, but of course they had kept the best picture themselves.  
Surprised at this, Prussia looked back into the envelope: there was a small photograph in it, about the size of the envelope itself. Stupid how he hadn't noticed it before. Curiously and also a little bit excited, he took it out and looked at it, immediately smiling when he laid eyes on it. It was rare to see the British Isles brothers together and at ease at the same time, and Northern Ireland was absolutely adorable. He looked like he was no older than a toddler.  
Still smiling wide, Prussia handed the picture to Germany. "Look, Ludwig," he said warmly. "Isn't the little guy just too cute?"  
Even Germany smiled a little as he looked at it, nodding briefly. "Still so young… How old is he? Just over 10 years or so, right?" The young republic stared at it for a moment, quiet. "Was I that small at that age, too?"  
Prussia nodded, smiling even wider at those memories. "You were adorable as well, you know," he told his little brother. "Too cute to describe."  
At this, Germany huffed for a moment, but then handed the picture back to Prussia. "It will be hard keeping Northern Ireland and Ireland apart when he grows up," he commented as he did. "He looks just like him."  
"Well," Prussia answered after nodding in agreement -North and Ireland really did look alike, though the difference was there, aside from the age difference. "If Holy Rome had still been alive, the two of you could have been twins, I swear. You look so much like him, too." Then he looked back at the picture, sighing softly. The little nation still looked so innocent. By now, though, Prussia knew better than to hope the innocence could last.  
It never did.

* * *

That evening, Prussia lay down on his bed with a sigh of pure bliss. He had missed his own little room more than he had thought he would, and his bed had never felt more comfortable.  
He felt a rush of pride as he thought about how he had not only managed to get up the stairs by himself, but also without that damn cane. His leg was a little more obedient right now than it sometimes was these days. He knew that, by the time morning would come the next day, it might well be totally different yet again, but for now he felt confident that he just needed some more time before he could put all this behind him and pretend it had never happened.  
"Don't get your hopes up."  
His thoughts came to a sudden halt when he heard this now-familiar voice and the strange accent with which it spoke German. Prussia craned his neck to see a teenage girl sitting on the edge of his bed, beside his feet, gazing at the floor with grey eyes. Her dark brown, nearly black hair hung loose over her shoulders.  
As per usual, he felt a twinge of discomfort at speaking her name, as if something about it just wasn't right. "Hello… Prussia."  
His former incarnation smiled at this, holding back laughter. "One would think you'd be more used to this by now," she chuckled, turning to look at him. Then she just stared at her reincarnation, blinked once and sighed. "Oh, who am I kidding? This is bloody weird." Then the girl took a deep breath, stretched and then let herself flop down onto her back, staring at the ceiling while Prussia sat up, still feeling a little uncomfortable with her being here.  
Old Prussia, as he had come to call her, began talking to him without looking at the free state again. "You're doing really well, Newby," she told him with a sigh. 'Newby' was for some reason her nickname for him. She had told him it was the short version of 'New Prussia', which she thought was a fair nickname if he called her 'Old Prussia', but he didn't think it was very fitting. She didn't give a damn. "You're recovering quite well, I'll give you that. Still, it really would be best if you didn't get your hopes up, trust me."  
He swallowed hard, finding it difficult to breathe right now; there was a pressure on his chest after she'd told him that, as if he had concrete weighing down on his ribcage. "What… what's that supposed to mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady and failing. He wasn't sure he even wanted to know the answer.  
Old Prussia rolled over onto her side and sat up as well, facing him now. Her voice was a lot softer and more gentle than it normally was when she told him carefully: "It means that you won't ever get the chance to pretend none of this ever happened." She glanced at his left leg then, regret shimmering in her eyes. "There is no such thing as recovering fully from a stroke, you know? You may get your arm and your leg fully under control again, you may not need all those pills anymore some months to years from now," she added, nodding to his nightstand, where he had a glass of water and three little bottles, each with different types of pills. "No matter how well you recover, though, the damage will always be there. Your head will always be a weaker spot, more easily damaged than before. You will always have to take it easy on the alcohol and _please_ don't ever smoke again. Maybe you won't have to be as careful as a human would," she the finished, staring her reincarnation straight in the eyes, "but you should probably accept that your fighting days are done, Newby."  
Those words dropped like a bigger bomb than he had expected to get right now, and he couldn't bring out a single word then. He struggled to breathe and couldn't move. But then he gritted his teeth, tensing up, and stubbornly shook his head. "I've always been a soldier," he protested. "Why should that change now? I've had worse: I've had my lungs punctured, I've had bullets through my heart, I've nearly bled out more than once. Why would all of that be all right, but a vein popping inside my brain means I can't be what I was made to be anymore?" The Prussian felt himself shaking with terror at the prospect of ending the life he'd had for over 700 years.  
At first there was no response, but then Old Prussia side and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them as she hugged her legs to her body. "Sometimes you have to let things go, Newby," she told him sadly. The albino vaguely thought about how this was the first time he'd had a serious conversation with his own past life, but that thought only pierced his other, more frantic and desperate ones for a second. "Not just loved ones, but things about yourself. Things you took for granted. Why do you think _I'm_ the one having this conversation with you?" she asked him then, looking up at him again. Her grey eyes had never reflected such sadness yet, not that he'd ever seen, anyway. "I've had to watch everything about me die out after my own passing: my people are gone, my language has been forgotten, my name belongs to someone else now, never to be associated with me anymore." With a deep sigh, she let her head rest on her knees again, hiding her face and pulling up her shoulders. "Even my grave has been destroyed in the Great War…"  
Prussia remembered his few trips to Königsberg since the end of the war, and having gone to the forest where his former self had been buried. He'd done so on a whim, he'd thought at first, but when he found the hill where her grave had been completely destroyed -trees uprooted, the rock that had been a gravestone half-buried at the bottom of the slope- he had felt that, just maybe, he'd gone there for a reason. For the first time, the free state felt bad for her; she _was_ wiped from most people's memories completely, after all. 'Prussia' was him now, the biggest state in Germany.  
Finally Old Prussia looked up again, her gaze tired as she stared at her reincarnation. "I've had to accept that _you_ are the only legacy I have and -and please don't take this the wrong way- that _sucks._ You're so different from me, it's hard. I wish I could have left more of myself in this world, but alas, the arrogant little German who inherited my name and my land is all there's left."  
Prussia didn't know whether to take all that as an insult or not, but he decided not to comment on it either way. He still didn't quite understand what it was she wanted to say with all this until her gaze suddenly grew intense, so much emotion and determination in her eyes that her grey irises looked almost blue instead. " _You_ , on the other hand," she told him, speaking clearly so that he wouldn't miss a syllable, "you've established much more than I ever got the chance to do. Who cares that you can't always be what you used to be? At least you've made it so that you'll always be remembered, Prussia. Thanks to you, our name will never be forgotten. So what if you can't always be a soldier anymore? If you believe that's what you were made to be, then you have low standards for yourself."  
Still, despite her words, Prussia sighed. Old Prussia had never been good at pep talks, anyway. She really had no clue what she was talking about; to his knowledge, she hadn't even lived as long as he had lived so far. She had never identified herself as being _one particular thing_ for so many centuries, other than being Prussia. He had always been a soldier, a knight, almost from the day he'd been born. If he wasn't that anymore, what was he then?  
And there was something else about her words, too. Prussia lay back down and turned away from her, curling up a little. If she had been trying to make him feel better, she had failed. He only felt sick now. "I'm dying," he choked out in a whisper as he closed his eyes. "Aren't I?"  
Silence. Then a soft sigh. "Thanks to you, our name will never be forgotten," Old Prussia repeated sadly. "But it won't be on the map forever."  
Even at this confirmation of what he had begun to understand over the past years, Prussia's mind went to one thing, and one thing only.  
 _…Ludwig…_

* * *

The next morning, Germany sat at the breakfast table on his own, dry toast within reach and a cup of coffee in his hand as his eyes trailed over that day's newspaper. He hadn't been able to keep track of the situation nearly as much as he had wanted to in the month he'd been in Geneva with his brother, waiting until Prussia could leave hospital. He needed to catch up on what he'd missed, even if that meant having to read a month's worth of reports and making more phone calls than he even wanted to imagine.  
By now he was hoping he would get a new president soon. Von Hindenburg was incapable of leading anymore at his old age, he'd proven as much when he made his poor judgement call last month, listening to someone like Von Papen. How did he believe it was best to _dismiss_ a government?  
Germany found himself crumpling the newspaper in his grip as he thought about this, but he couldn't easily dismiss his thoughts. He hadn't been able to do so for a month. It was as if the world was trying to get rid of him and his brother both. The nations around them made their lives nearly impossible to bear, had done so ever since the end of the war. Whenever things weren't quite so bad, something else would happen. Like the government turning against them and nearly killing Prussia in the process.  
No one cared. No one gave a damn about them. Germany had never thought about it like he had done over the past month, but lately he'd also been thinking a lot about the rest of his family. It seemed to him like everyone had forgotten that they had already lost their entire family, too. Prussia most of all, as he had actually known them and could remember them more than in vague images and half-forgotten words. Hadn't they lost enough? Did they really have to lose each other, as well? Did they have to lose everything they had worked for?  
…Everything _Prussia_ had worked for.  
Germany actually made himself no illusions about that: everything he had, he had inherited from his siblings. Prussia had worked his entire life to achieve what they'd had at the start of this century, before the war, and he'd had to sacrifice so much to get there. Now it was all crumbling in front of his eyes.  
But the republic also made himself no illusions about how much this affected _him_ , too. He may not have had to work and make sacrifices like Prussia had, but he had his life snatched away from him as well. For so long he had felt sorry for everything that had happened in the Great War. He still did. He felt sorry for all the people who had suffered, his own people and others.  
The nations?  
He didn't give a damn anymore.  
If Germany had known back then what life would be like after the war, he would've put in more effort. He wouldn't have tried to save Scotland, were it not for the old kingdom being Prussia's friend. He wouldn't have felt sorry for attacking France like they had. He would have sought the goddamned frog out and torn him apart.  
He cared about the people of this world. So many of them were completely innocent, they had to be protected. But when it came to nation personifications, by now, the whole world could burn in Hell for all he cared. It was probably where they all belonged, each and every one of them. And that included himself.

He was shook out of his thoughts when the door opened. Looking up, Germany was surprised to see Prussia walking in, cane in hand, but not using it to walk. There was still something off about his steps, but he looked steady enough on his feet for Germany to feel comfortable seeing his brother like that. He felt a warmth glowing inside his chest, not quite driving out the icy hatred he felt but getting close enough. He smiled. "Did you get down the stairs without it?" he asked after wishing his brother a good morning, nodding to the cane the albino set against the wall before sitting down in front of his little brother.  
Prussia looked almost proud as he grinned and nodded. "That's twice in a row now! Given, there was an entire night between it, but still." He then seemed to notice the crumpled newspaper and stared at it for a moment. Blinking in surprise, he then looked back at Germany. "Is something the matter?"  
Immediately the republic shook his head. "There's no useful information in there," he lied carefully. "Absolutely _nothing._ It's pissing me off."  
Prussia snorted and shook his head, amused. "Can't you stop working for _one_ morning?"  
"I've not been working for a month, mind you."  
"Doesn't count," the albino told him off, his gaze harder now as he stared at his younger brother. "You _were_ working; you were constantly worrying about me and looking after me… How is that not work? Silly. You shouldn't have been that worried all the time, you know?" The Prussian was silent for a moment, then reached out to place his hand softly to the side of Germany's face, looking him straight in the eyes. His red irises shone with love for his only surviving brother, a look on his face that finally melted the ice in Germany's veins. He still had Prussia. He still had his brother. So long as they had each other, somehow… they would be all right. Prussia smiled warmly, saying in a soft, gentle tone that was very unlike him yet at the same time so typical of him: "Just promise me to take care of yourself, too, Ludwig. Please."  
Germany could only nod and smile back. "Of course." He then shoved some toast over to his brother, also reaching to grab some butter -Prussia didn't really like his bread dry like Germany did.  
As the albino thanked him for that, the younger of the two brothers noticed that he was missing something about this picture. Something he actually didn't want to have to accept as being part of it now. "Did you take your pills upstairs already?" he asked casually, sipping his coffee again after that.  
Prussia froze in the middle of taking a bite from his breakfast, eyes wide for a moment, then he sighed and put his bread back down. "Damn. No, I… I forgot." He turned to get up. "Thanks for the reminder."  
But Germany stopped him before he could even get off his chair properly, smirking a little. "I'll get it," he said with a hint of laughter, though honestly he didn't see why it should be a laughing matter. Sometimes his own mind worked in mysterious ways that he could not comprehend right away. Or ever. "Let's not try and climb those stairs _three times in a row_ -without the night-long break in between. Once is having a good moment, twice is doing a damn good job, but any more would just be asking for trouble, I'm afraid." He grinned a little when Prussia rolled his eyes in annoyance and sighed. But the free state did thank him before he was even out of the room.

When he got into his brother's room, the young German immediately spotted the three little bottles with medicine on the nightstand beside Prussia's bed. He grabbed them without any hesitation, but then he froze. His icy blue gaze was fixed on those little bottles, the small pills inside them. The labels with names he could hardly even hope to pronounce, let alone know exactly what they were for, other than keeping Prussia alive.  
How could anyone's life depend on such small, seemingly unimportant objects? How should he even conceive of the idea that, without these things, his brother might not even survive?  
Actually, it was both their lives depending on these pills now. Prussia's physical life, the biological version of it, the definition of living that consisted of having a beating heart and a functioning brain and functioning organs. For Germany, it was the more figurative concept of life; having something worth living for, knowing why you would want that heart to keep beating and those organs to keep functioning. A reason to exist without dreading every second of it.  
Suddenly he tensed up, clenching the plastic bottles so hard in his hand that he almost shattered them, then out of the blue he flung them against the wall, surprising himself with it. But he didn't care.  
…No, he should. After all, it was no exaggeration that Prussia's life depended on these medicine. He should take them downstairs so that his stubborn oaf of a brother could take them, finally.  
More reluctantly this time and with shaking hands, Germany collected the bottles off the floor again; one of the lids had flown off at the sudden impact with the wall, and small, round pills were scattered all over the floor and Prussia's bed. Diligently he gathered them all up again, put them all back in the bottle and then screwed the lid back on. Silently he went downstairs, back to his brother.  
Back to the only thing that could take his mind off all this hatred, all this pain.  
 _…Brother…_

* * *

As Germany was halfway down the stairs, there was a knock on the door. Before Prussia could get it into his stubborn head to go, he called to his brother that he would get it, first taking that little detour to the door before he would bring Prussia his medication.  
He wasn't expecting anyone, but of all the people he could have expected, it sure hadn't been this vaguely familiar woman. Still, even with how much she had changed over time, he recognised her immediately. "Monika," the republic brought out in surprise and confusion. "It's been years…"  
The woman, now in her 30s, smiled a little. "I'm surprised you can still recognise me after all these years," she replied calmly. "You haven't changed a bit, though." She laughed softly for a moment. "I remember how, when we first met, we looked about the same age. What are you, 16 or so?"  
Germany stammered for a moment that he honestly had no idea what age he was supposed to look like these days, then he stepped aside and invited her in. "May I ask what you're here for?" he asked her after offering to take her coat for her. "I mean, I personally never expected to see you again, not after…"  
"It's been about 14 years now, I guess," she finished for him when he seemed to hesitate. "We were still at war when I was here last." Then, with a soft sigh, she added: "I have something for Prussia. He is here, isn't he?" She seemed relieved when Germany nodded yes, smiling a little. "I've been here twice the past week, but neither of you was home. Your neighbours assured me you still lived here, though, so I decided to give it another try."  
It was only when she had her coat off, for some reason, that Germany noticed her swollen belly. Of course, at her age she would naturally have a family of her own now. Somehow it just didn't fit in his mind, though. Maybe because he'd only ever known her as a teenager and young adult. "Uh… Congratulations," he stammered, unsure if he was even supposed to say anything.  
She only smiled warmly. "Thank you, Germany." Then, with a chuckle, she added: "Though by the time this one's been born, I think condolences would be in order, too."  
Confused, Germany blinked at her for this. "Is… is someone dying?" He didn't get it.  
She just grinned, reminding him of how cheeky she could be if she wanted to. That was still there, then. "Two, actually," she replied with a hint of laughter in her voice. "Two dear friends of mine: Free Time and Social Life."

He brought her into the living room then, where Prussia still sat at the table, casually glancing at the crumpled newspaper but clearly not really reading it. He, too, recognised his old friend -at least, Germany thought it was safe to say the two had built at least some sort of friendship back in the day- and greeted her in complete surprise. Then, in a manner too typical of Prussia, he laughed for a moment. "Gods, girl, you've gotten old!" he told her between his laughter. Thankfully Monika took it well, grinning a little at this, even when the free state added: "Ha. And fat, too." Then he stopped laughing and shook his head, still smiling wide as he looked at her. "Nah, seriously though, it's good to see you again. And I suppose I should congratulate you."  
Monika just sighed and shook her head amusedly. "Why does everyone always think that children are a blessing? No, seriously, I love the three little rascals I've got running around more than anything, and this one, too. But I swear to God, they're so much work."  
"I know, right?" Prussia laughed in response, gesturing to Germany. "You've no idea what he made me go through when he was little! Sometimes he just disappeared. Like, seriously, he would be by my side one moment, then I would blink and he was gone."  
Germany sat down again, watching in silence yet also wishing for his brother to shut up. If there was one thing he disliked, it was Prussia telling random people about all the weird things he did when he was still just a toddler. That's what little children did; they were impossible to understand. No need to tell everyone about it. Well, at least Prussia had never embarrassed him like that in front of any nations yet. Not that he knew of, anyway.  
Prussia just went on, apparently not even noticing how much Germany was willing him to shut up. "Then while I was searching for him," the albino said with an exasperated sigh, as though it had all happened only yesterday, "he would be impossible to find, then suddenly he would materialise out of thin air right beside me, making me question my own sanity. _Daily._ "  
"Oh, God, tell me about it," Monika sighed with a soft grunt. "Just be glad he had no little siblings to make it worse. 'Mommy, Ava has hidden my tin soldiers again!' ' _Mo-hom!_ Ansel is making fun of Heidi again and now she's crying!' I swear, as much as I love them, they're driving me up a wall sometimes." With another sigh, she lightly touched her abdomen for a moment, stating that she was already fairly certain that she had another troublemaker in the making right there. Then the conversation died down a little for just a moment.  
Germany took that opportunity to interrupt quickly. "Brother," he began, drawing Prussia's attention as he almost tentatively shoved his medication his way. He didn't know for sure how Prussia would feel about exposing his 'weakness', as Germany still believed Prussia saw it, right in front of someone like that. But it was a necessity. "Don't forget you still need to take your pills. Sooner rather than later."  
Prussia looked like he was suppressing a soft sigh for a moment, but he only thanked his younger brother softly and quickly swallowed all three pills with some of the water that he still had on the table beside him. He looked almost reluctant to do it, but he made no complaints, and that at least was good. Germany was happy to know his brother was long past the point of complaining by now and had instead accepted all this as an unwelcome but necessary routine in his life. Soon, Germany hoped, Prussia wouldn't even think about it anymore and just do it without all the negative implications that were still connected to it as of yet.  
Monika, who had been watching quietly, bit her lip for a moment as Prussia screwed the lids back onto the bottles one by one. When he was finished, she said almost tentatively: "You've… also changed a lot, haven't you?" When Prussia didn't answer, she gestured to her own eyes as if to point out something there. "When did, uh… When did that happen?" Of course. She was referring to his glasses.  
"Some 10 years ago now or something," Prussia answered, avoiding meeting her gaze for a moment. "Times have been a bit rough since the Great War, also on us. That's… that's all, really." He then shook his head and looked back at her, asking why she had come for a visit so suddenly.  
Now, something also seemed to flash in the human's eyes. "Not for a happy reason, I'm afraid," she said softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. "I came to tell you that my father died a few months ago." Both Prussia and Germany were surprised at this, carefully giving her their condolences. Monika just thanked them for that, then opened the bag she had hanging from her shoulder, getting an envelope out of it and handing that to Prussia. "You were mentioned in his will. He wanted you to have this.  
Prussia took the envelope silently and read the letter inside quickly. Germany wondered what was written in there, because soon his brother's red eyes were full of emotion, and he smiled sadly. "That's beautiful…" he choked out in a whisper. "Thank you… thank you for bringing it all this way."  
Monika shook her head. "It's what my father wanted," she answered calmly, before handing a small metal box to him as well. "He also wrote to give you this. Please, do take it. For him."  
Prussia only nodded and opened the small tin, his eyes growing wide when he saw what was in it: a military insignia. The Iron Cross. "I…" he stammered in disbelief. "Why would… This is something his family should keep. I can't take this. I shouldn't."  
"According to him, you should," Monika pressed gently, refusing to take it back when Prussia held it out for her to take. "Please just keep it."  
Prussia hesitated for another moment, but then he nodded, folding his fingers closed over the small metal pin. "I'm honoured…"  
There was a silence then, and somewhere in the middle of it, Germany's eyes trailed to the letter that lay on the table. Prussia noticed his curious gaze, and nodded approvingly. Having permission now, Germany started reading. He didn't read all of it, but something at the bottom, written differently from the rest, caught his eye.

" _Nicht jeder Tag kann glühn im Sonnenlichte;_

 _ein Wölkchen und ein Schauer kommt zur Zeit._

 _Drum lese keiner mir es im Gesichte,_

 _daß nicht der Wünsche jeder mir gedeiht._

 _Und wenn der böse Sturm mich wild umsauset,_

 _die Nacht entbrennet in des Blitzes Glut,_

 _hat's doch schon ärger in der Welt gebrauset,_

 _und was nicht bebte, war des Preußen Mut._

 _Mag Fels und Eiche splittern,_

 _ich werde nicht erzittern._

 _Danke für mein Leben, Preußen."_

Germany, too, smiled at this, touched by those words. They were lines from the Prussian anthem, or what used to be the Prussian anthem, but this man had selected specific ones that gave them a whole new meaning when written together.  
He looked up again when Monika spoke softly. "You matter more to people than you might think, Prussia," she told the free state, who looked too choked up to answer.  
Germany's smile only grew at this. Her words were so true. He hoped Prussia actually realised that, too.  
 _Because no matter how much of a pain in the ass you can be sometimes,_ he wanted to tell his dearest brother, _there's nothing in the world that matters more to me.  
All the world can burn for all I care.  
But not you. Not you._

… _I love you, brother._

* * *

 **I only just realised I've written exceptionally much from Germany's PoV over the past few chapters. Compared to usual, that is. Just a random thought.**

 **I'm sorry, anyway. I tried to make this chapter happier, and although I hope I succeeded on overall average... I... I can't help it! I cannot _not_ write angsty stuff, it seems.**

 **Here's the translation for the German lines I used, anyway:**

Not every day may gleam with sunshine;  
from time to time a cloud and shower nears.  
So may never read anybody in my face,  
that not all my wishes are satisfied.  
And when the evil storm roars around me,  
the night burns in lightning's blaze;  
Even so, it has stormed worse in the world already,  
and what didn't tremble was the Prussian courage.  
May rock and oak tree shatter,  
I will not tremble.  
Thank you for my life, Prussia.

 **(Thanks to whoever put that on Wikipedia for that, except the last sentence; only that was mine XD)**

 **Once again, thanks for reading, and I honestly hope you liked this chapter!**


	20. Chapter 20

**And I was late again. Sorry about that. This time, I can honestly say I haven't been as sick as I was last week for a long time. Thakfully I'm over it by now, but that wasn't fun...**

 **So I didn't start writing until Saturday. Wheeee~**

 **Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited and/or followed.**

 **About this chapter -the start, anyway- well... This is my very first time writing something like that and, to be honest, I have no personal experience at all to go on. None. Zero. So if that's a bit awkward, well, I'm sorry ^~^'**

 **As for the rest... you'll see.**

 **I hope you'll like the chapter a bit!**

* * *

The rest of the year 1932 seemed to fly by; Prussia soon recovered from his stroke as much as he ever would, he was told, which was almost fully. He didn't need his cane anymore by the end of September, by December he could stop taking all his medication except the pills to regulate his blood pressure. He would need those for a while longer, but that was something both nations were totally fine with. After all, it only meant Prussia would be all right so long as he kept taking his medicine, which was what they both strived for.  
They'd spent the holidays at Hungary's place, where Austria was as well for a week. That week had been the best they'd had since before July, an opportunity to just sit and talk with their friends without work or health to worry about.  
Prussia especially had been happier than he had been in a long time one night there.

Austria and Germany had both already gone to bed, but Prussia couldn't sleep and Hungary had been drinking a little too much to think about sleeping yet. When Prussia was drunk, he got sleepy. When Hungary got drunk, she got a short energy rush followed by complete and total collapse.  
She pouted a little as she stared at him sitting beside her with a cup of tea in his hands. "You really can't drink anymore, Gil?" she asked him almost sadly.  
Prussia just raised an eyebrow at her tone, wondering just how much she'd had this evening. Normal Hungary did not speak with a voice like that, all high-pitched and whiny. Especially when it was something that didn't affect her that she was talking about. The albino shrugged. "Sure I can, just not too much," he answered calmly. "But you know me: when I start, I don't stop. So for now, I just figured it's safer if I don't, you know… Not without Ludwig nearby, because he usually tells me when to stop if I don't limit myself properly." Although he'd had to smell beer for a couple of hours now, and he really did feel tempted to drink just a little. Just… a little.  
He bit his lip. "But no matter how much I miss that sweet liquid gold," he said, more to himself than to Hungary, "it's not worth causing trouble over." Prussia then took a deep breath and sipped his tea instead -a drink that he actually didn't like much, never had. He just figured coffee at this hour would be a bad idea, too, and he felt even less for simple water.  
Hungary acted like it was the worst thing she'd ever heard. "That's so sad…" Prussia decided to try and ignore her right now, but that became hard when she shoved over to his side, chin on his shoulder as she stared at him. Gods, she was so wasted. He could smell it on her breath and hear it in her voice. "Gil can't have his favourite beer now… that's so sad…" She hummed for a moment, but didn't move a muscle. Then he felt her jaw moving against his shoulder again. "I've got an idea for that, Gil. Wait a moment…"  
Prussia tensed up when he felt her hand cup his chin and turn his head. He didn't get a chance to think about what she was doing until her lips were on his. Startled, the Prussian flinched away, staring at her wide-eyed. Immediately he felt a twinge of regret. Drunk as hell or not, Hungary had just kissed him - _voluntarily-_ and he'd stopped her in a heartbeat! How stupid could he be?  
His heart pounding against his ribs, he tried to find his voice back again. "W-what…" he stammered, all he could manage to bring out right now. "Why…?"  
Hungary blinked innocently, clearly too drunk to even realise why her friend was so flustered. "Well," she answered matter-of-factly, "that way, you can _taste_ the beer without actually _drinking_ it. Isn't it a good solution?"  
 _For what problem?_ Not being able to drink beer whenever he wanted to was a discomfort, not a problem. At least that's what Prussia kept on telling himself so as to not get depressed over losing this old and dear friend of his.  
Prussia gave a short nod, although this reasoning was insane despite being understandable. When Hungary seemed to take his nod the wrong way and was about to kiss him again, he stopped her reluctantly, although his pulse was racing, having her lean over him like that and holding him by the shoulders gently yet firmly. "Lizzie, think first," he urged her carefully. "You're wasted. You're totally drunk, all right? Do you really think that's a good moment to kiss someone?" Although, honestly, the first time he'd ever kissed Fritz was when he had been drunk himself. But then, it had been Fritz, a teenager back then and completely sober, who had done the actual kissing.  
When Hungary didn't seem to think much of it, although she made no further pass for the time being, Prussia tried to rephrase that: "Just… don't do something you'll end up regretting, Lizzie…"  
At this, the older nation began chuckling softly, her green eyes twinkling. "I won't _regret_ anything, Gil," she assured him, sounding a bit more like her normal self at that moment than she had before. So maybe she wasn't fully out of it, then? That would be good.  
That would be _great.  
_ "In that case…" Prussia said, feeling his heart beat even faster yet as he carefully grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against him, "…that would be _awesome…_ "  
Hungary didn't need to be told twice. She kissed him again, carefully prying his mouth open with hers as she did. Prussia tensed a little at this, but soon found himself completely relaxed. He did enjoy the strong taste of beer on her lips and her tongue, but that was all nothing compared to the sensation that came over him at that moment, a tidal wave of warmth and comfort and pure bliss. Was this what he had been waiting for all those centuries?  
Because it had been worth the wait. Every second.  
His bliss faded a bit when they parted, only to catch their breath, and he opened his eyes for a moment. Brandenburg was there, behind Hungary, watching. Prussia's breath caught in his throat, and he stopped Hungary briefly when she tried to kiss him again, completely unaware of the dead girl with them.  
Hungary blinked her eyes open the moment he did this, and she stared at him with a confused green gaze. "What's the matter?" she asked softly.  
Prussia couldn't answer at first. Brandenburg began to smile warmly at him. It was only when Hungary repeated her question that the albino could get his eyes off Brandenburg, though only to briefly glance at Hungary before looking back. "We've… got company…" he choked out, unsure why he was even saying that. Who would believe him? Even drunk, surely Hungary wouldn't believe it if he told her Brandenburg was sitting behind her?  
He was wrong. The Hungarian woman turned around with a sigh. "Hey, could you give us some privacy, maybe? This is totally unawesome, as Gil here would say it." She wasn't looking directly at Brandenburg, which convinced Prussia that she couldn't see her, but she didn't seem to care.  
Meanwhile, Brandenburg only started laughing. "Oh, err… Sorry," she stammered, blushing as she looked at Prussia. "I, uh… I don't mind. You know, if… if you were worried I would."  
"Trust me," Prussia replied with a chuckle and a smirk, "I wasn't. Worry is the last thing I've got on my mind here." Hungary then asked him what he meant with that, who was he talking to, but Prussia stopped her by continuing that awesome kiss now. "Not important," he said in between. "Don't mind it. It's not important."  
It felt like barely two minutes had passed before he heard Old Prussia's voice close to his ear. "Careful there, Casanova," she giggled, and he could just about _hear_ her smirk as she spoke. "All the excitement might make your blood pressure go through the roof, you know?" Then she just laughed.  
Prussia felt a twinge of annoyance, and first chance he got he muttered to her softly: "Shut your yap, bitch."  
"Excuse me?" Hungary then said indignantly, pushing herself away from him. She looked tense and offended, and Prussia panicked for a moment.  
"N-no, not you!" he tried to assure her, sending a quick glare in Old Prussia's direction, who was currently on the floor, clutching her stomach as she laughed hysterically. If she hadn't been dead, she might have pissed herself laughing if this went on much longer. _You jerk. Centuries! Centuries I've been waiting for this moment, and I_ _ **won't**_ _let you ruin it for me!_ Prussia then turned back to Hungary. "I _really_ wasn't talking to you, Lizzie, I swear," the free state said feebly, knowing that it might well take some time to convince her. If he would manage to do so in the first place. "It's just… T-they won't leave me alone, not even right now." She had accepted Brandenburg's presence as being real… at least, it had looked like it. Maybe she would believe this, too. Besides, Prussia felt it was high time he told _someone_ about his newfound ability to see the dead.  
Hungary blinked and shook her head. "Who's 'they'?" she asked her friend with a sigh. She sounded a lot more sober than before, which sent a wave of warmth and joy through Prussia. She had been making out with him, voluntarily and _consciously_ , too? This was the best day of the century. Had to be. The woman sighed then and fixed her green gaze on him, worry sparking in her eyes. "What's going on, Gil? You're acting weird."  
Prussia took a deep breath. Well, so much for the evening of his dreams, then. "Ever since I've had my stroke, I… I've been able to see them." He decided it was best to just say it straight away, not make a long story out of it. "The dead." Before Hungary could respond, he went on: "In this case, there's Brandenburg -she's left now, after you asked her to- and Old Prussia, rolling over your floor in a fit of laughter right _there_." He nodded to the dead country with an exasperated sigh. "And it would be _very much appreciated_ ," he added to his previous incarnation, gritting his teeth, "if you would also leave."  
"Sheesh, you're no fun," Old Prussia choked out as she scrambled to her knees, still struggling not to laugh anymore. When she finally managed to be quiet, she got to her feet, arms crossed over her chest. " _Boring!_ You're really no fun anymore now that you can see us. I mean, you never complained when it was you and Brandenburg making out when I was there! I'm _always_ there!" She huffed. "But trust me when I say, I don't always want to be."  
"Well, not _now,_ " Prussia retorted through gritted teeth. "This time, you're leaving. And if you don't, trust me, I'll make sure you'll regret it."  
"How?" the girl asked with another laugh. "I'm already dead!"  
Prussia was about to say something else, but again, Hungary spoke up: "Okay, whoever, get out," she sighed. "Have a sense of privacy, will you? For God's sake, stop bothering Gil."  
Both Prussia and Old Prussia stood staring at her for a moment, dumbfounded. Then Old Prussia choked out: "Well, _that's_ new." Then she turned to Prussia, snickered and made an exaggerated bow, then disappeared from sight, leaving Prussia to stare for a moment before he stammered that she was gone now.  
"Well, that's good," Hungary just said with a shrug. Then she looked at Prussia again, something in her gaze telling him that she was still very far from being sober. Maybe that had helped him in this case, after all. He couldn't even feel disappointed over it, anyway. "I've heard crazier stuff before, Gil," she told him when she saw his astonished gaze. "Most of it coming from your mouth. Now just… _sshhhh_ …" Oh, yes, she was most certainly still drunk. How stupid of him to have thought otherwise for even a moment. "…And get on with it."  
Prussia froze when she suddenly slid her hands under his shirt, a shiver going down his spine when her hands found their way to just under the rim of his trousers a minute later. Yet again he stopped her momentarily, grabbing her by the wrists. "Uh, Lizzie?" he choked out, feeling his face grow hot. "Remember what I said about not doing anything you'll regret later on…?"  
The drunk woman only grinned. "Remember my answer of me not regretting a thing?"  
He let go of her wrists again. "Right… _Awesome_."

So yeah. That did turn out to be the best day of the century so far.  
The next day had turned out to be the most awkward one, though, because Germany had figured out before noon why his brother seemed so much happier than normally, and he couldn't suppress a smirk because of it. That in turn meant that Austria figured it out not too long after, and to top it off, Hungary was acting awkward around him now, too.  
Still the best day of the century, though. By far.

* * *

Halfway through January, Germany and Prussia had a private meeting with their next Chancellor, who was to be officially sworn in at the end of that month. Germany was less reluctant to do so than Prussia was, but he too didn't like this Hitler person much. There was something about him that he couldn't trust, especially after all the trouble the man had caused for them before.  
Yet at the same time, he could see what his people apparently saw in this man; he had a certain charm about him… No, that wasn't the right word. An air of authority. Something that made Germany want to listen to him, though he wasn't sure if that was out of genuine interest, plain loyalty or even fear.  
Prussia didn't share that with his brother. Or at least, if he had to be honest, not quite as much. It was hard to fight their people's influence in this just as much as it was in anything else. But it was even harder to fight his own feelings, and those were screaming at him to walk away the moment he saw his future Chancellor.  
The man just told them both to sit down when they came in, and so the two brothers did. The conversation started calmly, Hitler offering the two nations some water and then after a little while he began explaining his plans for when he was in office. "You must know by now," the Austrian man began, "that I'm planning to clean up this country. A deep cleanse is just what it needs."  
Germany huffed softly. "Should I take that as an insult?"  
A chuckle. "Of course not. You cannot help who your people are, after all. Not as of yet, anyway."  
Prussia gritted his teeth at this. What did he mean with that? He glanced over the human's shoulders at Holy Rome, who was watching the meeting through narrowed eyes. When he noticed his younger brother looking at him, the ghost sighed. "Give him a chance, Prussia," he said sternly. "He'll be your Chancellor, yours and Germany's, there's already nothing to be done about that. Some of his ideas may be outrageous, but others aren't half bad. Let's wait and hear what he has to say before judging." But when he looked back, he still looked doubtful, which didn't make Prussia feel any better.  
Meanwhile Old Prussia was leaning over Prussia's shoulder, listening intently as Hitler talked about purifying the population; communism was like a poison among their people, he said. Other ethnicities, non-Germanic people were a pest as well, causing more trouble than they were worth. Old Prussia grinned at this. "Damn, my people should have used that technique when the Germanic people came," she giggled. "Maybe then Prussian would still be spoken today… Can you imagine it?"  
 _I'd rather not,_ Prussia answered in thought. _I wouldn't have existed then, remember?_ But then, he had done the same thing when Germany had been established. He had kicked out Austria specifically, not because his cousin wasn't as Germanic as the rest of them, because he was, but because he had planned to incorporate more people into Germany than just Germanic people. That would have caused trouble, no doubt. Was it causing trouble now, too?  
"I'll just be glad once Von Papen is out of office," Brandenburg sneered, standing against the wall to Prussia's left. She had been as angry at that particular man as Prussia had been ever since July. _He'd_ been the one to almost kill Prussia, persuading the President to dismiss his government. "I don't care who replaces him, so long as he won't be there anymore."  
 _Can't argue with that.  
_ Saxony was about to say something as well, and Prussia sighed. How should he ever listen to this man if his family was arguing at the same time? Over the past months, he'd learnt that there was one thing he hadn't missed about his siblings and cousins: their loud voices booming through every serious conversation to be had. Of course, just as it had been last century, just Prussia's annoyed sigh wasn't enough to shut them up. He just tried to focus on Hitler's words, reluctantly as though he did. Though by the end of the meeting, he didn't feel any more reassured than he had done before it.  
Germany, on the other hand, looked a lot more at ease. Prussia wasn't sure how to feel about that. But then, he thought, it was good that his little brother wasn't as fiercely against his Chancellor to-be as he was against his current Chancellor. They had all hated Von Papen ever since the Preussenschlag.

Only Hitler looked a little dissatisfied by the end of the meeting, and just before Prussia could get up to leave after the two nations had been dismissed, he asked if the free state could stay a little longer. "There's something I want to talk to you in private about, if you don't mind."  
Prussia didn't really want to, but he nodded and stayed behind while Germany went ahead already. With a soft sigh he turned back to look at the man who was to become their leader. Well… until Von Hindenburg died and got a successor, that is. The President still had more power than the Chancellor, after all. That would never change.  
Uncomfortable under the man's stare, Prussia shifted a little. The only thing he could hear just then was the clock, and he shot the thing a quick glance. Perfect moment to interrupt that painful silence. "Excuse me for a moment, sir," he said hastily as he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a little sachet that he kept his medication in whenever he was out of the house. "I should have taken this half an hour ago." Now that was a lie, he was a few minutes early if he had to be really strict, but there was no need for this human to know.  
When Prussia set his glass with water down after swallowing his pill, Hitler sighed. "How are you doing these days, anyway?" he asked, somehow sounding genuinely concerned and absolutely indifferent at the same time. "You seem to be doing well, but I couldn't help but notice that you haven't been yourself since last summer."  
Prussia was unable to tell whether he was speaking out of true interest, but he just assumed he was. After the long conversation before this, surely no one would bother with pleasantries if they didn't want to? "I'm well, sir, thank you," he replied, avoiding meeting his gaze almost instinctively. "I… I do struggle sometimes, but not much. It can be difficult adapting to a new lifestyle."  
The human gave a short nod. "It is certainly nothing to be underestimated," he agreed calmly. "But… a new lifestyle? I thought you only need to take medication now?" He really did seem genuinely interested. That calmed Prussia's nerves a little, and he could relax a bit more.  
The Prussian just shook his head. "There are things that I used to do that I can't anymore," he explained a little reluctantly, feeling a twinge of grief as he listed a few of the things he missed. Silly things, maybe, but he missed them. "Smoking, for one. Drinking. I used to not really mind it if I had to go around and throw a few punches-"  
"I remember that quite vividly, yes."  
"-but I can't go around and fight anymore, now." He sighed deeply. "I was always a soldier, see. Now I can't be like that anymore…" He couldn't bring himself to say any more.  
There was a silence for a moment, but then the human sighed. "Well, I'm sure you'll get there one day. And don't give up too soon, Prussia; you may just be a soldier yet." Then he cleared his throat and straightened his back again. "I realised earlier that there are some things you and I may not yet agree on. But I assure you, Prussia, if you're willing to listen to me now, you'll see why my plans are in Germany's best interest. Surely you would be willing to give anything a chance, if it was to help your younger brother?"  
Prussia nodded. Of course he would. Anything for Germany, just anything. Besides, listening had never hurt anybody. If he came to agree with this man, that was all the better, seeing as he would be in a leading position soon. If he still couldn't agree, then there was no harm done, just a few uncomfortable years until his term as Chancellor came to an end. "Germany is my only concern these days," he said in a soft voice. "Ludwig is all I care about now."  
"He is my main concern, also," Hitler agreed, something flashing in his eyes as he spoke, some sort of determination. Prussia liked that. If this man was so determined to make sure Germany would be all right no matter what, then maybe they could agree on a few things, after all. "As I explained earlier, some people living within our borders are like poison to him; they are what is causing all his problems, what has been causing his problems for years."  
Or maybe they wouldn't agree, after all. "How are they like poison?" Prussia asked carefully, his eyes narrowed a little. He just didn't understand. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't quite follow." Was he just another one of those jerks, the kind of person like the people who had persecuted Prussia when he was younger just for looking different? If he did have good reasoning for this, the nation wanted to hear it as soon as possible.  
And he did. "Is it not true that your people are represented inside your body, Prussia?" the human asked. "In your blood, to be precise?" When Prussia confirmed this, the man nodded. "There you have it. What do you think happens to a Germanic people when other ethnicities get mixed up in it?"  
Was he for real? "The population wouldn't be purely Germanic anymore," Prussia replied matter-of-factly. "But-"  
Hitler didn't give him a chance to say anything else. "Then what would happen to Germanic blood if other ethnicities get mixed up in it?" Prussia didn't answer this time, so the man went on calmly but with a fierce determination in his voice also. "In humans, it is already enough of a problem to be impure. But think about what it would do to your bodies. Humans would be born with mixed blood, their bodies would unfortunately adapt to such impurity instead of rejecting it. But for your kind…" He trailed off, let those words sink in, then said out of the blue: "I heard you're familiar with a number of medical procedures, Prussia."  
Surprised, the nation blinked, wondering where this was going. "Y-yes," he stammered in reply. "I am. Why, sir?"  
"Tell me what happens if someone gets injected with the wrong blood type during a transfusion, please."  
Prussia was silent for a moment. Something twisted in the pit of his stomach as he realised what this man was trying to say. Still, he did as was asked of him. "The body would reject the bad blood, sir," he replied stiffly, finding it difficult to breathe all of a sudden. "But of course, there is no way for the body itself to get rid of that blood. Only help from outside would be able to do anything, but that would be a difficult procedure. The person would have to bleed out again, to receive a new transfusion with the correct blood -most of this would fail, mind you. But without any help… eventually… the person would die." He fell quiet then, his gaze wide and focused on the desk between him and the human in front of him as he still struggled to breathe.  
There was a moment of silence again before Hitler spoke once more. "I see you've begun to understand what I mean now," was all that he said. Then, suddenly, he got up from where he sat and walked around his desk until he stood right in front of Prussia. Just this nearly forced the nation to look up and meet his gaze. "I only want to do this for your well-being, Prussia," he said calmly, his gaze intense and ablaze with that same determination as earlier.  
At this, Prussia swallowed the lump of anxiety in his throat and forced a dry chuckle over his lips. "I'm a goner already, sir," he replied hoarsely, unable to speak any louder than in a whisper. "No use working for someone's well-being if they're already dying, is it?"  
"You may be," was the cold answer he got, "but your brother isn't." It was quiet yet again after that, and the human went back to his chair without a word. Only when he sat down did he speak again. "You may go now, Prussia. Thank you for staying to listen, and please do think on what we've discussed today. Now leave."  
Prussia didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

Prussia walked with rapid paces to get out of there, his mind spinning after that conversation. Was this really for the best? To get rid of troublesome people like the communists and other ethnicities and everyone who wasn't Germanic? Would that really help Germany recover completely from everything that had been done to him since the Great War? The economy was still a mess and the politics weren't much better yet. For a few months now the focus had been on Prussia after the coup that had caused him a stroke, but Germany had been sick in November last year. He wasn't any healthier than his elder brother was, though thankfully he at least didn't have the weak spot in his brain that could burst open again if he wasn't careful enough. In that respect, Germany was _much_ healthier than his elder brother was.  
Still, a solution needed to be found. It was nearly 20 years since the start of the war that had thrown their lives out of balance. It was nearly 15 years since that war had ended and they'd been thrown into deepest trouble without a way out of that pit. For over a decade, Germany had been struggling with his health, and Prussia was tired of watching helplessly.  
If this man offered that solution, Prussia would follow his plans.  
Anything for Germany.

"He does have a point, you know," Holy Rome sighed as he walked beside Prussia. "It's differences and arguing people who brought me to my end. Forget Napoleon, he was just the one to make it definitive. It's the fact that no one could cooperate that really killed me."  
"Yeah, well," Bavaria, the second incarnation -the one that Prussia had murdered- muttered in response. "I don't think I like the guy much. All his ideas aside, he just looks way too smug." Then, with a devious grin and blue eyes glinting, she looked at Prussia. "And you know how much I hate smug guys."  
Prussia just rolled his eyes at this. He and Bavaria had never gotten along, not the first Bavaria he'd ever met, Brandenburg's sister, not the last incarnation there had been, the one raised by Austria. Even now, he didn't get along with First Bavaria, either; she had been Austria's elder sister and had raised the aristocratic nation from when he was a baby until she had died, when Austria had the physical appearance of a 5-year-old, as Prussia had been told. She, like her successor, had been killed in battle, around the same time Old Prussia had been killed.  
So many Bavarians around, and not one was helpful. Well, not when Prussia was involved, anyway. They all talked lovingly about Germany, whom they really did view as their little brother, just as Prussia had intended when establishing an empire. Everyone in the family adored their youngest sibling as much as Prussia did, and just hearing that made the albino extremely happy every single time.  
Now, however, he just felt an icy chill going down his spine, unable to shake his thoughts and Hitler's words echoing through his head. _They're like bad blood…_ Did they really have to purge the population, the government, everything? Was there no other option? _Just bad blood…_  
Brandenburg butted in now, too. "You're seriously considering his ideas, Prussia?" There was a hint of anxiety in her voice as she spoke. "I mean, I agree with Holy Rome, but... but you must realise that what this man is talking about goes beyond serving the country, right?"  
"Persecuting people for what they are, what they have been since birth, and what they cannot change," Württemberg added, shaking his head with a sigh. "Prussia, you of all people should know how wrong that is."  
Their words sent a jolt of painful memories through Prussia's heart and mind, but he pushed them aside. He had to push them aside. "I know, and I don't like it," he answered, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. Why did they have to argue and make it more difficult for him? "But you've heard the man; what if this really _is_ best for Ludwig? Hell, it might even be better for _me,_ and here I thought I was a goner!" Still, at the thought of driving out people who weren't Germanic, or who were communists… He would have to get used to that one.  
Württemberg still looked uncomfortable with the thought. "I'm just saying…"  
"Yeah, well, please don't say anything!" Prussia retorted, getting frustrated. "It's difficult enough already, and you're not helping! Look, you don't know until you try, right? We can get rid of this guy if things go too far, but until then, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help my little brother be as strong as he used to be."  
"But, Prussia-!" Brandenburg tried to reason with him.  
Prussia interrupted even her. "You said it yourself, Brand!" he snapped, making her flinch. Seeing that was like a knife to his heart, but it was too late to take back now, anyway. "You said you'd be fine with whoever would succeed Von Papen, so long as Von Papen would be out of office soon. Well, here's what you wanted: _whoever_ taking over Von Papen's place as Chancellor. Enjoy."  
Brandenburg sighed, gaze fixed on the floor. "That's true…" she said in a tiny voice.  
Prussia was quiet for a moment, fighting to get rid of that chill and telling his heart over and over to calm down, which it hadn't done since the moment he'd been alone with Hitler. He took a deep breath and repeated yet again: "It's difficult, I know, but please don't argue about it all the time and just-"  
"Brother?"  
Prussia broke off in a startled yelp and he nearly stumbled. Germany caught him by the arm before he could really fall, though, and helped him regain his balance. Prussia's heart was racing in shock as he looked his little brother in the eyes, but then he forced a laugh over his lips. "Ludwig, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" he choked out before grabbing the republic in a quick, firm embrace.  
Germany wasn't so keen to return the embrace, his gaze shimmering with worry as he looked at his elder brother. "Who were you talking to?"  
"Just… myself," Prussia lied with a shrug, hoping he came across believably. Then, before Germany had the chance to say any more, he patted the younger nation on the shoulder and stepped outside, gesturing to Germany to follow him. "Now let's go home, shall we? Or maybe we can stop by a pub somewhere -and stick to that annoying two-drink maximum policy of yours, don't worry."  
Germany stood there and stared at him for a little moment longer, but then he just nodded and followed his brother. "So long as you swear you'll stick to it this time and not order another drink when I'm not looking."  
"I would never."  
"You did last time."  
"I would never again."

That evening, sitting at a bar, Germany glanced over at Prussia. His brother was acting weird lately. Actually he had been acting strangely for a long time already, but Germany had only really started noticing it a few weeks ago, and then he had realised how long it had been going on already.  
The republic's mind went back to the meeting he'd had that afternoon. While he didn't like everything, he liked quite a number of Hitler's ideas. He wasn't sure how the 'deep cleanse' he'd mentioned was going to work, but not following the Treaty of Versailles anymore was music to Germany's ears. To be rid of that crippling debt, to not follow the suffocating restrictions other nations had imposed on them… It was such a wonderful idea. To Hell with France and his grudge. To Hell with the United Kingdom and their many pairs of judging eyes. To Hell with America and his economic 'support'.  
To Hell with not having an army.  
What were they to do if ever a war would break out again, after all? They were helpless like this, left at their enemies' mercy if such a thing would ever happen.  
They had the right to be a strong, independent nation as they had been before all this had started, and Germany trusted Hitler would have the solution to some of their problems at least. Probably not all, but he would no doubt solve a lot of their problems once he was in office. The man had always been a troublemaker, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.  
Most of all, Germany prayed this man had the solution to Prussia's problems. Because although it was hard to see right now, as Prussia was grinning at his younger brother and toasting with his pint of beer, Germany knew that there was so much wrong with his brother still.  
He may not like all of his future Chancellor's ideas, but so long as they served to make Prussia better, he was willing to try whatever it took.  
Anything for Prussia.

* * *

 **So yeah. Someone asked how Germany and Prussia were going to react to the Nazis? Here's how.**

 **I hope I made sense in that entire explanation (yet dreading that it might actually make sense... I'm torn over this one)  
And can I just say that I love writing the German family bickering in the room, and Prussia being the only one to notice it of course, and Germany just sitting there as if nothing is happening while there is this massive debate/sibling fight going on around him and... I love picturing it XD**

 **And Old Prussia would be a jerk like that. She totally would be. Teasing her little reincarnation like that. Think of it as an elder sibling teasing the younger at the worst possible moments. That's Old Prussia and Prussia.**

 **And I'll stop rambling now. I hope you liked the chapter, and thanks for reading!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, favourited or followed!**

 **Now Abc made a good point in a review. There _is_ some sensitive stuff coming up in the next few chapters; I understand fully that everything to do with WWII and the Nazis might well be the most sensitive subject I could write about in this fanfic. I just hope I will stay on the side of 'good fiction', as Abc called it.  
So I don't know if it will make any difference or not, but I just want to say, the next couple of chapter will have content that is sensitive to _me_ , personally, too, just as it might be to some of my readers. You see, although I myself am not, a good portion of my family was Jewish. Unfortunately 'was' is the correct tense to use, as there aren't that many of them left in my family since WWII. It's a strange sensation to be on a school trip with the history class to a deportation camp, to look at a photo wall of people who had been imprisoned there, and to suddenly see a picture of someone who might as well have been your mother. Turns out that woman was my great-great grandmother.  
And I know that I'm likely to not be the only one here with a family history like that. And even if it's not personal, from here on some of the things I write may strike a sensitive chord with anyone. I just want to say that I sincerely hope my writing won't be offensive to anyone, and if it is, I am truly sorry for that.**

 **With that out of the way, here's chapter 21, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it!**

* * *

'The President would always have more power than the Chancellor. That would never change.'  
That notion soon became a thing of the past once Hitler became Chancellor of Germany.  
Barely 2 months into his chancellorship, Hitler managed to persuade the Reichstag members to enact the Enabling Act, which essentially placed all power in the Chancellor's hands, as he was now able to pass laws without the rest of the government being involved. His party took full control of the government, little by little, although those little steps followed one another quite rapidly indeed.  
Communists weren't allowed to vote. Opposition was threatened and persecuted, forced to cooperate. By summer, there were no other legal political parties anymore.

Germany and Prussia could both do nothing but sit by and watch it all unfold, praying that their people had made the right decision when they had chosen this man to lead them. His actions proved to be even more radical than his plans had been, but the two brothers clung on to their hope that not everything was lost yet. Maybe, just maybe, this was what was necessary. Perhaps Hitler really did have the answers to their problems, and this was just what needed to be done to be able to bring those much-needed solutions into action. Maybe…  
One thing that both Germany and Prussia were positive about was the rearmament. The army they had slowly and secretly began to rebuild since the Great War had ended was now being rebuild at lightning speed compared to before. It reassured them that they would be strong when needed, that they would be able to stand up to other nations if they had to. It was one thing that served as a comfort in this chaotic time, as the chaos only served to increase their suffering as of yet. But they hoped things would be better once the situation settled down, which couldn't be too long now. They knew it would get better. There was opposition (although this was beaten down quickly), but so many people followed Hitler, believed him to be the best thing that had happened to Germany in many years. Surely they must be right? How could nearly an entire population be wrong, after all? This was all for the best. It had to be for the best.  
The Weimar Republic left the League of Nations in 1933. By 1934, Hitler had full control of Germany  
And the people cheered it on.  
So, setting their doubts aside, Germany and Prussia soon did exactly the same thing.

And things did get better for them. Freed from the crushing, choking Treaty of Versailles now that they had a leader who simply refused to abide by its rules any longer, the economy soon grew stronger. The army grew quickly, and it grew strong. The government, though very different from how they had envisioned it, was well-organised. Well, democracy had never worked out well for Germany, anyway. The failure that was the Weimar Republic had proven as much.  
The horrors that happened under their noses were negligible in comparison to all the good things. Weren't they? If the persecution of certain people was necessary for the nation to grow strong again, then so be it. By now it was too late to do anything about it, anyway; Hitler was unstoppable. The only way to make the man powerless was by killing him, and that was maybe a tad too much. Germany and Prussia soon came to adopt the strategy of 'if you can't beat them, join them'. Of course they could fight it, but neither was very willing to face the consequences. They had suffered enough. So instead of voicing whatever doubts they had, they chose to relish their renewed health and strength now that they finally could do so again. As the years passed, the nation thrived, regardless of what might be going on behind closed doors.  
Soon enough they forgot that they ever had any doubts.

* * *

In early 1936, in preparation for a pact that Hitler was planning to sign with Japan, Prussia took his younger brother to meet said nation. They had seen each other at meetings of League of Nations, which Japan had left a few months before Germany had done, but they had never properly been introduced.  
Prussia was overjoyed to see his old acquaintance again. He wasn't sure if they could be considered friends, but in his opinion 'acquaintance' was too much of an understatement. They got along well. Prussia had taught Japan German once, and in return Japan had taught Prussia a wide variety of things. Maybe it wasn't exactly a fair exchange, but it was how things were.  
Germany on the other hand was mostly nervous. Japan seemed like a strict person, quiet and observant, one who noticed everything that happened and judged in silence. His manners were something to get used to as well, although Prussia had instructed him well. First of all, Germany had been told by his elder brother to bow when he would meet Japan, not to shake his hand like he would do with Western politicians or nations.  
It didn't quite go like that, however. Germany stood straight as a board when being introduced to Japan, greeted him politely in the only Japanese sentence he knew now (which Prussia had also taught him a day earlier) and bowed exactly as instructed.  
In response, Japan did the same thing, but when he straightened himself after bowing he held out his hand after all. When Germany was stunned for a brief moment, the smaller man smiled just a little bit. "I have been dealing with Westerners for long enough to have learnt your ways now, Germany-san," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I appreciate your efforts to adjust to my culture and ways, but in return, I should do the same thing."  
And so they shook hands after all.

After the formal introductions were over, they sat down and had tea in Japan's home, continuing the introductions between Germany and Japan in a less formal way. Although with Japan, everything seemed to be formal to a certain level. Germany liked politeness, but Japan brought it to a whole new, almost scary level.  
It seemed like Japan approved of him, though. Eventually the old nation turned to Prussia with a smile. "I must admit that I am pleasantly surprised by how well you have raised your brother," he said in his apparently standard, overly formal way. Even after how long they had known each other, Japan even still addressed Prussia with ' _Sie_ ' instead of ' _du_ '. Using human nicknames was out of the question. There was one difference between how he addressed Prussia and Germany, though, and Germany would have to ask his brother what that difference meant later, probably. Whereas he called the younger nation 'Germany-san', he used the suffix 'kun' for Prussia. There probably was a difference in meaning, but Germany couldn't figure it out. He assumed it had to do with familiarity.  
He found out what it meant before the afternoon was over. After being called 'Prussia-kun' again, the albino laughed at one point. "If you're comfortable enough to call me 'kun', Japan," he told the old Asian island, "you may also just use _'du_ ', you know. If you're okay with that," he added quickly.  
So it was the same sort of thing as the _Sie/du_ thing after all. Good to know. Japan seemed to consider it for a moment, but soon made his decision. "If you believe it's all right," he said with a short nod. "I will do so, then. Please forgive me if I fall back on old habits occasionally, however; it might take some getting used to."  
Later, Japan looked at Germany rather intently for a moment, then he smiled. "You look like your siblings, Germany-san," he told him out of the blue. "I didn't know them all and I unfortunately didn't get to know them for very long, but your hair is the exact same colour as Saxony's and Hesse's was, for one. I also knew Bavaria, and what you share with him is your eye colour; the same pale blue, exactly the same. Just as with several others of your siblings." He was quiet for a moment, then went on more quietly, as though he knew that this was a slightly more painful subject. "I am told you look exactly like the Holy Roman Empire; some say it's as if he's still alive. I cannot say whether this is true or not, as I was never lucky enough to meet your brother, but I can tell you that it is a good thing. You carry their memory, Germany-san. There is no better thing in the world."  
Germany was taken aback by this sudden observation, unable to make a sound. Beside him, Prussia sat rigid for a moment, then sighed softly. "That's exactly what I always think," he mumbled in a soft voice, emotion dripping from every word. The free state turned to look at his younger brother, red eyes shining with love. "He is so much like them, in looks, in manners, character… he has bits of everyone, doesn't he, Japan? I have said from the beginning that Ludwig is everyone's legacy." He was quiet for a moment, gently grabbing Germany's hand and squeezing it softly as he averted his gaze again. "He is. He is all that and more. And I couldn't be more proud."  
Those words and the look Prussia had given him made Germany feel even more choked up for a moment, and he fought to suppress those emotions. Japan seemed like the last person to get emotional in front of, second maybe only to Hitler.  
Realising that he'd stirred up quite some emotions with his comment, Japan tried to smile at Prussia. "As I said before, you've raised him well, Prussia-kun."  
To Germany's surprise, Prussia shook his head. "I doubt I had any role in this, really. If Ludwig had followed my example, he would have never gotten so far. I'm fairly certain he got here all on his own strength, and the person he became is only his own personality." With another, shorter glance at Germany and a soft sigh, he finished: "I didn't raise him this way. He's turned out a much better person than what I could've ever raised him to be."  
"That's not true," Germany protested, squeezing his brother's hand a bit when Prussia was about to let go of him again, refusing to let the older nation believe his own words. "You haven't been the perfect brother, but you're still the best brother I have. And you _did_ raise me well; everything I know, I learnt from you. How can that _not_ be your work?"  
"And let's not forget all the things you've achieved in life, Prussia-kun," Japan added helpfully, although he looked a little confused over Prussia's sudden shift in mood as much as Germany was. "Germany-san takes after you, that is a fact."  
"He's surpassed me," Prussia argued, pulling his hand out of Germany's grip, his gaze focused on the table, avoiding both Japan and Germany's eyes. "He surpassed me the moment he was born. And I'm proud of that, you know. I am. More proud than I've ever been of anything else. But don't say he takes after me, because I don't want that for him." The albino gritted his teeth for a moment and huffed. "Because I may have been Awesomeness incarnated in the past -Hell, I was the most awesome nation to walk the Earth at one point- but look where I am now: no government of my own, growing weaker by the year it seems. I am _nothing_ compared to what I used to be. We have an army again, and I'm not even part of it! I don't _want_ Ludwig to be like me, not if that means having some glory, directly followed by years of steady decline. I don't _want_ my little brother to be a weakling like me!" He raised his voice on the last sentence, startling both other nations. Then he briskly got to his feet and walked away.  
Germany called after him and was about to get up to go after his brother, but Japan stopped him gently. "It's probably best to let him be for now, Germany-san," he said in a soft voice, very carefully. "I've never known him to react kindly to any interference when he gets like this. Although I've never heard him put himself down like that." He narrowed his eyes pensively, some confusion in their dark, nearly black irises. "If anything, Prussia-kun always praised himself as though he were a deity, especially when he was feeling down about something. This is new for me…"  
Germany sighed, still staring at where his brother had left, wishing he could say the same thing. Prussia hadn't been himself for years. He had recovered so well from his stroke physically speaking. Mentally he had never been the same again. Although the free state had always had confidence in his own strength and in his own worth, he had been insecure all his life about many things, too, for all Germany could tell. Since his stroke, the Prussian seemed to think he wasn't strong anymore, and in his mind, not being strong equalled being worthless. Germany had more or less figured out that this was what his brother now seemed to think of himself, though this was the first time he had outright called himself weak like this.  
It was one of the reasons Germany was so grateful to his new government: they gave Prussia a sense of purpose, something which the nation desperately needed now to build up his confidence again. Meanwhile Germany just wished he could do the other thing his brother probably needed now. If only he could find the words to tell his elder brother that having survived and recovered so well from something as horrible as a stroke was no weakness at all, that it was a sign of immense strength if nothing else. But whenever the opportunity was there, he could never find the right words, could never bring himself to say it.  
If only. But for now, working for the government kept Prussia busy enough to get his mind off all this most of the time. It was just one of the many reasons that Germany was grateful to his leader; he had hoped the man could help Prussia, and that was exactly what he was doing.

Later that day already, Prussia acted as if nothing had ever happened. Germany and Japan decided to not bring up his outburst of that afternoon anymore, in fear of a repeat. From there on, their visit to Japan went smoothly: they were able to discuss all that they needed to and by the time they had to leave, Germany and Japan got along splendidly, too. It was all exactly as planned, and when the two brothers came back home again, their leader praised them for their work.

* * *

While Germany was working on international relations with Japan, a similar ideology as there was in Germany at the time was spreading through Europe. Italy was led by a fascist regime, and many other countries were going down the same path. In fact, the ideology with which Germany was now ruled had been based upon that fascism, and Hitler had good relations with the Italian leader Mussolini.  
Meanwhile, other countries seemed to grow nervous over how Germany was acting. The young nation himself didn't fully understand. They were only doing what they had the right to do, they were only taking what was rightfully theirs. That's what they were told, and after so many things had improved, how could this be wrong, after all?  
Besides, after so many years, they were tired of all the bad things. Now that there was some good going on, for once in their lives, it would be such a waste if they didn't focus on that. They couldn't afford to worry about everything any longer, they couldn't take it. Just listening to what they were told to do and accepting the situation was easier, much easier.  
They had the right to be with their family. So when Austria was annexed in 1938, that was all right. It was totally fine for Prussia to pout and whine like a child when he was told that he had to live under the same roof with Austria now, but it was a normal thing to be with family. Austria agreed with that, he didn't mind the Anschluss much, not nearly as much as they had expected.  
Other nations didn't quite agree with it. That, and other things, was the reason that there was a meeting in Munich, for which the nations involved got together on 29 September 1938.

Things were as usual before the meeting would start: Germany and Prussia sat side by side with Austria close by, watching the other nations coming into the conference hall once by one. First Italy, North and South, both nations not saying much to the Germans. They did send them a disapproving glance or two; they didn't agree with the Anschluss and didn't hesitate to make that clear. Next came Hungary, who was to gain something in this as well if everything went according to plan, and she greeted all nations present politely but took place close to the German trio. France then came in, without saying a single word and hardly even looking at the Germans. He sat on his own, though clearly preferred being closer to the Italian brothers than the others. The United Kingdom was running late, to everyone's surprise, and the first thing that was discussed, quickly and reluctantly, was that they would wait for a maximum of 15 minutes before they would begin without them. After that, there was an uncomfortable silence again.  
Germany recalled the last time he had met with France, Hungary and Austria like this, and also the United Kingdom. Only the Italians hadn't been there, all those years ago, and instead the USA had been. But today would be nothing like Versailles. Today would be in _their_ favour, today would be _their_ victory. They wouldn't be stepped on and trampled and meekly accept whatever was thrown at them anymore now. It wouldn't ever be like that anymore. The Treaty of Versailles had been followed by more than a decade of suffering for Germany and Prussia, and they wouldn't do it anymore. Never again. They had a place in this world just like anyone else did, and whatever they had done in the past, whatever mistakes they had made, they would never lose that place, and they would never be convinced to give it up. Today… today they would fight for their rights, those of their people, and they would not settle for less than what they came for.  
And so, Germany sat with a proud gaze and his chin held high.

Barely a minute after the meeting was supposed to have started, the door swung open, revealing England. He looked a little bit out of breath, clearly having rushed to get there in time. Still having failed in the end, though.  
His emerald eyes shone with unreadable emotions as he choked out an apology for being late. "I'm sorry for the slight delay," he said, clearly fighting to sound calm, "but I'm afraid we had a bit of trouble with the staircase."  
The nations weren't even given the time to get confused over that statement: while England was speaking, Scotland appeared behind him, and a second later Wales, who was attending a meeting for the first time since Versailles. And the moment Germany lay eyes on the middle brother, everything he might have ever questioned about it fell into place. Why Wales had been absent from every single meeting for years. Why Scotland and England explained their brother's absence with a weak story, hardly an excuse, clearly made up. The only thing he could wonder now was _how._  
How had Wales ended up in a wheelchair?  
The Welshman stared back for a moment as every single nation was staring at him with wide, shocked gazes -even France, who was closest to the British Isles of all of them, being a half-brother to England- then the disabled nation shrugged and manoeuvred his wheelchair past his younger brother and to the table. He leant forward to pull a chair out of the way, but by then Italy Veneziano had gotten to his feet, still looking dazed with shock like the rest of them, and did it for him.  
His honey-brown eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets as he slowly made his way back to his seat, gaze fixed on Wales every step of the way. "Wales," he choked out tentatively, "if it's okay to ask, how did… How did this happen?" He glanced around for a moment, gaze trailing over all the other nations. "I don't think anyone else here knew about this, right…?"  
Wales sighed and shook his head in response, both his brothers taking place on either side of him now. He didn't look very willing to talk about this subject, which Germany could fully understand. For a moment he wondered what he and Prussia would have done, if the Prussian had any visible damage from his stroke; he could have been blind, he could also have been in a wheelchair, he could have been mute. So much could have happened that they would have had to explain in front of everyone. He felt sick just thinking about it.  
He felt a rush of pity for poor Wales, for this reason, who was left with no choice but to finally tell other nations why he had been absent for so long. "No, indeed, they didn't," he answered Italy Veneziano's question flatly. Then he took a deep breath. "I'll just explain this now for everyone to hear, and I want no questions anymore after that, all right?" Italy Veneziano nodded immediately, and Hungary mumbled quickly that, of course, they wouldn't bother him about it. She, too, sent Prussia a quick glance, and Germany guessed she was thinking the same thing he had been thinking earlier.  
Wales reluctantly began explaining. "17 years ago, during April 1921, there was an accident that broke my spine. Because there was another nation involved in that accident, the damage is permanent. Most likely, I'll be stuck in this for the rest of my life. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"  
Not even close, but Germany was among the nations who nodded in agreement, still stunned silent. He did wonder what the details were, what this 'accident' had been like, who had been involved in it? He thought he could answer that last question pretty easily, thinking about it; 1921 had been the last year of the Irish War of Independence, and if memory served him right, April had been around the time it had ended. With that one sentence, possibly a slip of the tongue, Wales had pretty much given it away for any observant listener: Ireland. It must have been Ireland. The young German felt another rush of nausea as he tried to imagine what it must be like for the old republic, to know and to be reminded every time he saw Wales that he had crippled his younger brother. It must be the most horrible thing in the world, and he felt almost as bad for Ireland as he did for Wales, hoping he had the wrong conclusion after all. He doubted it.  
Veneziano was insensible enough to say more, but Romano corrected his younger brother with a rough poke to the side, silencing him quickly. It surprised Germany that Romano was the sensible one for a change; Wales seemed rather grateful that he got no further questions. _So Romano isn't a total jackass, after all…_  
After a long, awkward silence, France cleared his throat. "Well then," he said on a flat tone, "I take it we can start now?" That was perhaps the first sensible thing Germany had heard coming from France's mouth that century. Which immediately made it the first sensible thing he'd heard from him _ever_. Against all the young nation's expectations, he actually agreed with the Frenchman.  
The meeting started immediately after that, and it soon became the usual chaos. Before things could get out of hand, Germany decided to cut right to the chase. "Sudetenland is all we want," he said calmly, referring to the areas of Czechoslovakia that bordered Germany. "Many Germans live there," he went on, "and they have the right to live in Germany, with their ethnic brothers and sisters. The easiest way to achieve that is for us to annex Sudetenland."  
Just as he had expected, his claims were met with immediate protest. England had his emerald gaze fixed on Germany in a burning glare. "Like you annexed Austria?" he demanded with a nasty edge to his voice. "You broke the rules decided upon in the Treaty of Versailles by annexing your neighbouring country like you did, and now you expect to be able to annex a part of Czechoslovakia as well?" There were a few quiet but determined mumbles of agreement from the Italian brothers and France.  
Austria, on the other hand, sighed softly. His face expressionless and his voice even, he replied calmly: "I actually did not mind the Anschluss at all, I must say. The nations around me seemed to care about it more than I did. Personally, I do not think of it as a problem at all." Having said that, he closed his eyes, waiting patiently for the protests he clearly knew he would get.  
Those came from Italy Romano first. "Of course we cared, you idiot!" the Mediterranean nation snapped, eyes narrowed agitatedly as he looked at Austria. Pointing to Germany, he added fiercely: "That Potato Bastard can't just break the rules of Versailles like that!"  
Italy Veneziano nodded, backing up his brother in a less fierce manner. "I have nothing against Germany," he tried to reason with Austria, "but annexing you was wrong. How can _you_ , of all people, not see that?"  
Austria remained as calm as ever, though Germany could see the muscles in his cousin's jaw tensing as he fought back frustration. "We have similar views and our people live well together," he stated simply. "I really do not see the problem, and let's not forget that if there was one, it would be _my_ problem."  
Scotland tensed up as Austria was speaking, and he grumbled angrily once the Germanic nation had finished. "Views?" he echoed, voice dripping with disgust. "Oh, you mean the way you've been treating Jews, do you? I hardly think that can be called a _view_ anymore, at this point!"  
Much to Germany's surprise, Prussia laughed hollowly at his friend's angry statement. "Like you're any better!" he said accusingly, his red gaze travelling over all nations in the room, one by one. "Admit it, you hypocritical shitheads," the albino sneered then. "You're all thinking the same thing we do, but unlike you, we actually have the guts to act on it."  
Germany huffed, feeling a twinge of pride for his elder brother, that Prussia had dared to say those words aloud; Jews were treated badly throughout Europe, not just within German borders. These nations had no right to judge Germany and Prussia, or anyone, if they were exactly the same on the inside. Admittedly, things were going a bit far sometimes, perhaps too far, but the other nations were no better.  
When it looked like England wanted to protest or perhaps even deny Prussia's words, the free state went on before the older nation had a chance to speak. "How is what we're doing any different from what the entire world has been doing since basically the beginning of time? Well, since there have been Jews on this planet, anyway. They were enslaved by the Egyptians, they were persecuted by the Greeks and the Romans, they were massacred for various reasons in the Middle Ages… Need I go on? Or would you feel uncomfortable if I reminded you of your own more recent actions? Like you, France," he added with his red eyes glinting almost deviously as he turned to stare at France. "I've read Voltaire's books, you know. Page after page of anti-Semitic statements. Did you condemn that?" Then the albino turned to England with a snort. "Now correct me if I'm wrong, it was such a long time ago after all, but didn't you banish _all_ Jews from your land in 1290?"  
Germany knew that Prussia had prepared all this; the free state had diligently done his homework to be ready for it if they got complaints about their recent actions. It was working splendidly: France already looked too uncomfortable to say anything in denial of Prussia's words, and England was paling now, too.  
Satisfied by this, Prussia grinned for a moment, then he sat back in his chair, completely relaxed. "I can keep this up for hours if need be, but I believe this has already been more than sufficient, no? Let's face it: we're all guilty here, so don't you dare condemn us for something you've all done as well. Yeah? Next topic."  
The other nations weren't quite as aggressive towards the three German nations anymore after this.

* * *

By the end of the day, Prussia left the conference hall with a satisfied grin on his face, feeling quite pleased about their achievements of that day; somehow they had reached an agreement, and Germany would get exactly what they had demanded. Sudetenland would be theirs now.  
Even the others looked pleased with the results, which made him feel even better. The less animosity between nations, the better. He knew that Germany had reached the point that he couldn't care less about most other nations anymore long ago already, and while he did agree with his little brother, Prussia had lived too long and had seen too many wars to not admit that it was in everyone's best interest if nations could at least cooperate without bashing each other's faces in.  
As per usual, there were some conversations between the nations after the meeting, small talk for the most of it. Hungary and Austria seemed to having a normal, friendly conversation, and England and Scotland were talking to France. North and South Italy had already left, stating that they would go looking for a decent restaurant, although they didn't expect to find one in the area.  
Although they had to wait for Austria before they would leave completely, Germany and Prussia had decided to at least get out of the conference hall, to have some time away from everyone else. Things had gone well, but the entire day had been filled with uncomfortable tension and frustration nonetheless.  
Once outside the room, Prussia was surprised to see Wales there for a moment; after all these years, he was used to Wales not being there for meetings, so he had hardly noticed that the older nation hadn't been with his brothers. He sat in his wheelchair close to the staircase, leaning on the railing with his arms and resting his chin on it. Despite not seeing his expression, Prussia was pretty sure the Welshman was miserable.  
His stomach twisting with a mixture of pity and dread that, had things gone differently, that could've been _him_ in a wheelchair, Prussia gestured to Germany to stay put for a moment while he carefully approached Wales. "You all right there?" he asked a little nervously, trying not to let too much pity through in his voice.  
Wales didn't even twitch at first, then he sighed deeply. "Just waiting for my brothers, is all," he mumbled in response, his voice devoid of any emotion. "I'm fine."  
 _No, you're not._ Prussia bit back that blunt retort, carefully thinking over his next words before he would even open his mouth. He could only imagine how he would feel in Wales's situation, and he didn't want to make the British nation feel even worse. He didn't deserve that. Eventually he just took a deep breath. "I'm assuming you want to get down?" he asked in calmly as he could.  
The Welshman still didn't even glance at Prussia. "Some fresh air would be nice," he admitted a little grumpily. "But I can wait. My brothers also have the right to catch up with friends, you know? Especially considering France is another one of Artie's brothers… They seem to be getting along better lately, and I don't want to take this opportunity to actually form a bond with the rest of his family away from Arthur, not for something as dumb as me wanting to go outside. So really, I'm totally fine with waiting for them."  
Prussia couldn't suppress a soft sigh at this. What was it like, being so dependent on others? He wished he would never know how it felt. The albino looked over his shoulder at Germany for a moment, then turned back to Wales. "You don't _have to_ wait, you know," he told him with a careful smile. He tugged on the older nation's wheelchair to turn him around so that they would be facing each other, hoping Wales wouldn't feel offended by what he was going to do next. "Ludwig, could you give me a hand for a moment?" Prussia asked his younger brother before leaning down to Wales, who stiffened with shock when the free state hooked an arm under his limp legs.  
He struggled for a moment, asking hoarsely what the hell Prussia was doing, but once the Prussian lifted him from his wheelchair, Wales clung to the younger nation's shoulders as though his life depended on it. "Fucking hell, you twat!" he gasped in shock, sounding positively terrified. "J-just put me down, for God's sake, put me down!"  
For a moment Prussia thought about listening to his request, but he knew with a certainty that, once this was over with, Wales would be grateful. Slowly and a little awkwardly, he began walking down the stairs with the older nation in his arms. Halfway down, Prussia shifted clumsily, and although he was nowhere near losing his balance, Wales involuntarily let out a soft, scared whimper, clinging even tighter to Prussia.  
"You don't really like being carried, do you?" the free state asked gently, glad that Wales couldn't see his expression in the position he was in.  
The crippled nation laughed dryly. "You think? For all I know, that arm around my back is the only one you're using; you could let my legs dangle, and I wouldn't even know!" He took a deep breath, then let out a shaky sigh. "I'm used to my brothers helping me, but anyone else… It's…" He trailed off, only to finish in a barely audible whimper: "It's _scary_ to have no feeling in half your body, even after nearly 20 years…"  
Prussia could only hum in response, feeling a shiver go down his spine. _I'm so lucky…_  
Once at the bottom of the stairs, he waited for a few seconds until Germany had set down the wheelchair beside him. Prussia then carefully placed Wales back in it, the older nation now almost reluctant to let go, still tense all over -well, from the waist up, that is. After a short moment of being stunned, motionless and silent with shock, Wales turned to look up at Prussia with wide, mossy-green eyes, a startled look in them. "T-thanks," he choked out breathlessly, then turning to Germany and thanking him as well. Then he fixed his astonished gaze on the floor, shivering a little after a few seconds. "You could've warned me, you know."  
Prussia laughed guiltily at this, apologising. Maybe he should have said something, indeed. Still, he had been right that Wales would be grateful once they'd gotten him downstairs.  
Suddenly a voice came from above, and the three nations all looked up. "Dylan!" England stood at the top of the stairs, Scotland behind him. The blond kingdom looked both startled and relieved as he looked down. "Thank God, I nearly had a heart attack there! For a moment, I almost thought you'd disappeared."  
Wales sighed and rolled his eyes, forgetting his own shock over Prussia and Germany's unexpected help. "I'm not a child, Artie," he grumbled in annoyance. "For fuck's sake, I won't die if you just stop keeping an eye on me sometimes."  
England, nearly at the bottom of the stairs now, looked a bit hurt over his brother's reaction. "Well, I'm sorry for caring about you," he retorted, his voice quivering a little. "Don't forget it's your first time out of the country since the accident, and would you really have reacted any differently if the roles had been reversed?"  
At this, Wales huffed softly. "I suppose not. But please, chill. Just because we're not home doesn't mean I'm suddenly helpless, and you know it."  
"Okay, both of you, stop it," Scotland then butted in, giving both his younger brothers a stern look. When it was clear that England and Wales would both stay quiet now, the old kingdom looked at Prussia and Germany, who had gone to stand side by side when the two British brothers had started arguing. "Thanks for helping, you two," he said calmly, though there was a hint of strain in his voice as well.  
Germany huffed in response. "No problem," he answered with anger edging his voice. "Whatever you may think of us, we're not heartless, you know." After having said that, the young nation promptly spun around and walked away without even glancing at his brother.  
Prussia stared after him, feeling a twinge of disappointment. Germany resented the other nations, especially their former enemies, even more strongly than Prussia did. It was silent for a moment, but then Wales hummed softly. He shrugged. "Well, I did want to go outside and get some fresh air, so…" With a last glance at Prussia, he added: "Thanks again. I really appreciate your help. Tell your brother that, too, all right?" Then he rolled towards the doors and pushed them open with some difficulty before heading outside.  
England let out a tired sigh the moment his brother was out of sight. "I'll see if I can get us a taxi, then," he said to Scotland, going after Wales immediately. He didn't pay any attention to Prussia as he passed the albino.  
Alone with Scotland now, Prussia felt suddenly uncomfortable. He and his friend disagreed about many things these days, that much had become apparent during the meeting. He wanted to say something, but he had no clue what he could say that wouldn't be painful of just plain uncomfortable.  
Scotland clearly hesitated as well, but he found the courage to speak sooner than Prussia did. "Say, Gil," he began in a soft voice, sounding almost scared as he spoke. "You don't… You don't actually mean what you said today, do you? You can't actually… Please tell me you don't actually believe all this is _right_." He stared at his young friend with wide blue eyes, a silent plea in his gaze: _please tell me you're no monster, please tell me I wasn't wrong about you after all._  
Prussia's stomach twisted and he averted his gaze, his shoulders raised defensively. "If you were in my position," he began, feeling sick as he realised his dear friend was starting to doubt him. "If you'd heard the things I have, seen the things I've seen… you would understand." He swallowed the lump that was growing in his throat. "Things are getting better for us, Allistair. Sure, there are things I don't fully agree with, but… but it's worth it. And even if I don't like everything Hitler does," he added, a hint of panic slipping into his voice against his will. "Allistair, what do you suggest I do about it? He's our leader. We can't disobey him, we seriously can't. I don't want to think about what he might do if…" He shut up quickly, shaking his head. That was too much, way too much information. No one needed to know that one of the reasons he followed Hitler was that he feared the man; although he was grateful for all the good things that had happened since his rise to power, and despite the fact that he saw sense in some of the things the man said and did, he was afraid of him. Rightfully so, probably, going by what Hitler did to his enemies, just anyone who opposed him. Who was to say he wasn't capable of doing the same thing even to his nations?  
Correcting himself quickly, Prussia cleared his throat and went on, trying to keep his voice more steady again. "Besides, I don't disagree about everything. In fact, considering it has all worked out so well for us, I quite like most of what he's doing. Have you taken a good look at Ludwig?" he asked, turning to look at his friend.  
The Scot was quiet for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "He does look healthy," he admitted reluctantly. "Much healthier than he's looked in ages."  
Prussia nodded determinedly, then looked through the open door. From where he stood, he could see England and Wales outside, talking to each other. He kept his gaze fixed on Wales then, and Scotland soon followed his gaze, grief flashing in his eyes as he looked at his crippled little brother. "Tell me, Allistair," Prussia then said quietly. "If someone could heal Wales, even if it meant doing some controversial, immoral things… Wouldn't that be worth it? If it meant your little brother could be healthy again?"  
A silence fell, heavy and uncomfortable, but Prussia didn't regret his words. He had to make Scotland understand somehow, and this was the only option he saw. Eventually the old kingdom sighed. "I would do anything for that…" he choked out in a whisper, the only answer he gave.  
But that was plenty. "Well, that's what I'm doing," Prussia stated determinedly. "I said I would do anything for Ludwig, and I'm not about to go back on my promise. So long as the situation benefits my little brother, I'm willing to put up with anything."

Neither Scotland nor Prussia liked the uncomfortable silence between them very much, and they soon parted ways. The goodbye they exchanged wasn't the friendliest, it was more business-like than anything else, and it left Prussia with a hollow feeling as he went after Germany. After a few minutes' search, he found his little brother, in what looked like an empty office room. The younger nation's expression was one of too many emotions to read, his gaze fixed on the wall as he pondered.  
Still feeling uneasy over his exchange with Scotland earlier, Prussia took a deep breath and closed the door behind him before he tentatively approached Germany.  
Prussia didn't even get the chance to speak before Germany, without even looking up, asked in a soft voice: "We _aren't_ heartless, right?" He shuddered for a moment, still without looking at his brother, then raised his shoulders a little, almost defensively. "I mean, whatever they think, we're _not_ monsters… are we?"  
Prussia didn't know how to answer for a moment, but then he shook his head. "Of course not," he reassured the young nation. "At least we know right from wrong, don't we? We know very well that Hitler's been doing some pretty damn good stuff for us, improving infrastructure, improving the economy… At the same time, we also know that he's been doing cruel, horrible things. So long as we know what is right and what is not, _we're_ not the monsters." He fell quiet for a moment, sighing softly. The free state sat down on the desk beside Germany then, who still didn't look very reassured. "Even so," the Prussian went on more quietly, "what do they expect _us_ to do about it? We can't stand up to him. It's not up to nations to defy their leaders, it never has been and it never will be. Did France fight Napoleon? Is Russia defying Stalin? I don't see those two little Italians trying to overthrow Mussolini. It's just not a nation's task to actively fight their own leaders. If we did that, it would be as bad as not doing a thing, if not worse. So what can we do about it, aside from what we're already doing?" When Germany didn't respond, Prussia placed his hand on his younger brother's shoulder, hoping the gesture would be somewhat comforting. "We can talk to the man, try and convince him not to go too far, but if he won't listen, what more can we do? We're already doing all we can. If and when the people are done with him, one way or another, they'll find a way to dispose of him. It has always been like that."  
Germany sighed then. "And meanwhile, we're made to defend that man and his ideas, as if we agree with everything," he muttered, sounding both enraged over that fact and miserable at the same time. "I have nothing against Jews, yet we have to pretend we agree with persecuting them! All because we can't _openly disagree_ with him." He sneered that last part, folding his hands into fists.  
Prussia nodded solemnly. "I don't like it either, but that's what being a nation is about; if other nations knew that one nation doesn't agree with its leader, they would see that as a weakness, and they wouldn't hesitate to exploit that weakness."  
Germany didn't respond anymore, though Prussia could basically see the wheels turning inside his little brother's mind as he sat there, staring ahead and lost in thought. Prussia didn't know what else he could say anymore, either, though he loathed the silence. It felt like the silence was choking him.  
"What are you thinking?" the albino eventually asked softly, fidgeting a little as his legs itched to get up and run away from this heavy, uncomfortable atmosphere.  
Germany didn't answer immediately, closing his eyes first and hiding his face in his broad hands. "I'm thinking," he answered in a voice that was barely any louder than a whisper. "I'm thinking this is enough now. We've got Austria with us. We've got Sudetenland now. All those Germanic people can now live inside our borders without the need for mass-migration. That's good, all right. And it's _plenty_ , too. We've got what we came for and I don't think we'll need anything else." He let his hands drop to his lap then, opening his icy blue eyes again. They shimmered with panic, helplessness and worry. "This is a good moment to stop, isn't it? We've already antagonised other countries even more than before now, doing any more controversial things now would be foolish. Suicidal. And it's unnecessary, too. _'Lebensraum'?_ We've got plenty of that now. It's been more than enough now, it needs to end before thing go too far. But…" He trailed off for a moment, and as he turned to look Prussia in the eyes now, for the first time in many years, Prussia felt like he was looking at a confused teenager again, not the make-believe adult his little brother had seemed to be for some time. The albino felt his heart ache for the young nation. Someone so young shouldn't have to deal with everything he had to deal with, he shouldn't have to make the decisions he had to make. How could anyone expect him to make the right choices in a situation that not even the oldest nations would be able to handle smoothly, if at all?  
For just a moment, Germany looked positively terrified as he breathed in horror: "Hitler's not going to agree, is he?"  
Prussia bit his lip. How he wished he could reassure his precious little brother now. Instead he had no choice but to tell him the truth; anything else would be even more cruel. "No," he answered sadly. "No, I don't think he will."

Really the only thing they could do, the only thing that could keep them sane, was to close their eyes and ears at times. Focus on the good things, even if the balance was shifting now and the bad was once again starting to outweigh the good. Try not to think about all the horrible things too much.  
Pray that their leader knew when to stop. Hope with all their hearts that things wouldn't get out of hand.  
Adapt and pretend. They had to fool even themselves if they really wanted to make it. Any disobedience would be punished.  
They just couldn't have that, it was that simple. A nation's first duty was to his people, and though they knew that not everything they did and had to do benefitted their people, it would be even worse if they weren't around at all. How could they serve their people if they were locked up in one of those horrible camps that even they had only heard rumours about? No matter what it took, they had to stay on Hitler's good side. For themselves. For each other. For their people.  
Even if it hurt sometimes.

* * *

 **So yeah, I hope that was still all right?**

 **Honestly, I can't imagine Germany and Prussia agreeing with everything that was going on at the time. But I also believe there is not a single good historian out there who can deny that, between all the horrors of WWII and the build-up to it, there were a few good things as well. New developments, inventions that otherwise wouldn't have been done... With WWI, too, for example, it is a fact that, _because_ of how horrible that war was, the medical world for one made a lot of developments. Blood transfusions, to name one thing, were already experimented on before WWI, but because of the increased need for blood transfusions, research into it was moved up to lightning speed. Now it's saving lives every day.  
Nothing good will ever weigh up to all the inhuman things that have been done, not only in the past century but throughout all of history, but you can't find solutions to problems without first facing them head-on.**

 **Let's just hope humanity truly has learnt from its mistakes, right?**

 **And now I'm rambling a bit.**

 **Sorry about that.**

 **Anyways, thanks so much for reading, and I hope you liked it!**


	22. Chapter 22

**I'm so glad you all think I'm handling this topic well so far! Thank you all so much for that, I wasn't too sure about it for some time...**

 **Also, Zeivira, to answer your question about Prussia and his family: Prussia wanted to know _why_ and _how_ his family had been taken away from him. The 'why' part was most important, and he thought that if he could figure out the 'how' and/or the 'who', he would be able to figure that out, too.  
The thing now is... he has them back. They're here now, so it doesn't matter too much anymore why they weren't for some time. He still wants to know, but because he basically has his family back now, it's not his priority anymore.  
(Also, you might recall his nightmare early on in HtD, and he's still afraid he isn't going to like the answer at all)  
In short, Prussia's thoughts on the matter now are along the lines of: "Well, I don't have to miss them anymore now, so that's good. It won't be a struggle to find out the truth now, I can ask whenever I feel ready. So, considering I have more important stuff going on right now... and what if they'll say... Yeah, I'll wait until shit's sorted here, I guess."**

 **I hope that makes some sense?**

 **Anyways, here's chapter 22, and I hope you'll like it!**

* * *

Prussia felt like his heart was going to give out a year later, on 1 September 1939.  
They had been trying to get land back from Poland, the so-called Polish Corridor that had been taken from them in the Treaty of Versailles. They hoped to connect East Prussia with Germany again. While that was completely fine to Prussia, something he wanted if he had to be honest, it didn't exactly work out. Poland wasn't just going to give them that land, and they couldn't expect to get it diplomatically like they had acquired Sudetenland the year before.  
Hitler had already said that he would be willing to solve the problem through military actions if he had to, something which Prussia had managed to keep from Germany so far. He didn't want his little brother to have to go through another war, and he feared that even suggesting it would be too much of a shock. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that the Great War had left scars on the young nation; invisible but deep scars.  
"Please," the Prussian had pleaded with their leader before, a couple of months ago already. "If they won't give it to us, that's fine. We don't need that land back; I'm surviving just fine without it and Ludwig is doing wonderful. All right? It's probably best not to make a fuss over it. It's not worth bringing the army into it."  
"I thought _I_ was the one making the decisions here," Hitler had answered in a sneer. The death glare he sent Prussia had nearly made the albino flinch. "For years, _I've_ been the only one making the decisions, and look where it got us! Exactly, you're _surviving_. Your brother's _healthy_. All thanks to me and the choices I've made. Do you honestly believe I don't know what's best for you?"  
Prussia had been almost unable to breathe at that moment. "I… I suppose…" he stammered. "Y-yes, of course. I'm sorry, sir, I shouldn't have doubted your judgement." He averted his gaze quickly, too scared to look the human in the eyes.  
His attempts to reason with Hitler hadn't worked. He could have tried harder, maybe, but the man was too intimidating even for him. He was ashamed to admit that he was afraid of his own leader, but he was. He was terrified of him.  
But then, even if he had tried harder, the man wouldn't have listened. He didn't listen to anyone. He did exactly what he wanted without taking any notice of what others said.

And now it had happened. Now they had invaded Poland. Now it was war.  
Germany, who had carefully been kept in the dark about this by his brother, was now standing rigid by his side, his pale blue eyes wide with fear. Seeing him like this, Prussia felt bad about not saying anything to his precious younger brother; maybe it wouldn't have been such a shock if he had known beforehand that it could happen. On the other hand, now he had at least lived without fear a little longer. He honestly didn't know what would have been the better choice.  
He only knew that there was no changing it anymore now, anyway.  
Prussia bit his lip as Germany shook his head slowly. "No, right?" he choked out in terror, his voice hoarse and barely any louder than a whisper. "It must be a joke. There can't be a new war. You didn't… You didn't, right?"  
Hitler didn't answer, only stared at his nation with contempt and even disappointment in his cold gaze. Then he huffed. "Why, are you scared? You do know that the army is stronger than it has ever been, don't you? No one will stand a chance against us, Germany."  
"That's what they said last time," Germany answered, horrified, as he shook his head. "That's what they said last time, and we still lost!"  
Hitler was about to say something else, but Prussia butted in, taking a step closer to his little brother and grabbing his hand. "Some consideration would be nice, sir," he said bluntly. He was terrified of the human, yes, but no one would taunt his little brother, not even that maniac. He gritted his teeth angrily. "Ludwig's still young, he was barely more than a child in the Great War. He's barely more than a child _now._ " The Prussian glanced around the office, looking at the other humans who were there. "Can anyone blame him for maybe being a bit scared? War trauma is no joke, dammit."  
"And whose fault is it that Germany didn't know about this beforehand?" Hitler countered coldly, his icy gaze fixed on Prussia. "You do realise I do not have to invite my nations to every meeting I hold? _You_ , on the other hand, have been present before when I've discussed the war. You could have told your brother, if you wanted to."  
Germany stiffened for a moment, then turned to stare at his elder brother, his eyes narrowed. There was a hint of disbelief in his accusing blue gaze. "You _knew?_ " he blurted out indignantly. "Since when?"  
Prussia stared back in shock, glancing at Hitler quickly, who was watching in silence. _That bastard!_ He must have known that Germany would react like this. The Prussian's breath quivered a little as he felt more nervous with the second. "J-just since a week," he answered shakily, which wasn't a complete lie. He'd known for a week that it was going to happen. It had been a few weeks since he'd known about the possibility that it might happen. It had probably been decided long ago, though, behind _both_ their backs. By now, Prussia thought Hitler was just the person who would do such a thing. He had to stop himself from glaring at the man as he added more darkly: "I had _hoped_ it was just talk, though."  
Germany scoffed at this. "Damn fool," he muttered to his brother. " _Nothing_ is ever 'just talk' with him, and you know it!" Then he turned to look at his leader instead, and Prussia nearly flinched at the anger with which he glared at Hitler; that wasn't something one could just do and walk away from in one piece, generally speaking. "Why didn't I hear about this beforehand?" he demanded daringly, all fear now absent from his voice. "Sir, as the personification of this land, is it not my duty to know everything that's going on? Why go out of your way to keep me in the dark?"  
Hitler remained very calm as he answered without any hesitation: "Because your brother does have a point, young man." He glanced at Prussia for a moment, his gaze unreadable. "You _are_ still barely more than a child. You don't need to know everything, not if it's matters that don't concern children."  
Germany glared at Prussia for a moment when the human said this. _If only you could stop patronising me for once…!_ he seemed to be wanting to say, and Prussia averted his gaze uncomfortably. He knew that Hitler was lying, he probably didn't trust his nations to agree with starting a war -and he was right not to- but what he said now only served to make Germany even angrier with his brother.  
"However, if you're this keen to be involved," Hitler went on, still with that unsettlingly calm voice, "I suppose we have a place for you in the army. Congratulations, soldier."  
Prussia watched as all colour drained from his little brother's face, but the young nation didn't say a word. Instead he only dipped his head a little in agreement, staring at the floor afterward. The albino nation knew that, by now, Germany wouldn't take kindly to any interference from his elder brother, but this was something he couldn't let slide. "Now, hold on a sec-!" he began, but he was cut off.  
"Ah, yes, of course," their leader sighed, sounding annoyed with the free state now. " _You_ can reclaim your place in the army as well, no need to worry. You won't have to miss your old life any longer, Prussia. Much as I loathe to admit, you're invaluable as a soldier, and it would be a waste not to put your skills to good use. At least you'll be doing _something_ useful, for a change," he added more quietly, picking up a stack of papers that was on the edge of his desk and beginning to browse through it, ignoring both his nations at that moment.  
"I… I can't, sir," Prussia choked out, taken aback by this blunt and sudden decision. "I want to -I would love to live my old life again- but I honestly cannot. Not after that stroke I've had."  
"I'm sure we'll figure something out."  
Now, even Germany protested, despite clearly still being angry with his brother. "No, sir, he really shouldn't," he tried to reason with his leader. "Every physician so far has said the same thing: after the haemorrhage, Gilbert's brains are a weaker spot, so…" He trailed off quickly when the Austrian slammed his fist on his desk.  
He looked positively enraged when he snapped: "Then he'll wear a _helmet!_ " Exasperated, he gestured to Austria, who hadn't said a word yet so far but also looked a little uncomfortable by now. "At least your body is still strong and steady, unlike Austria's - _thanks to you,_ " he said to Prussia. Then he turned to his birth country, his gaze cold. "Not to worry, though, Austria. I have a job in mind for you, also, away from the battlefield. We'll get to that tomorrow; right now I have work to do." Then he told the three nations to leave, and they all listened all too gladly.

Austria huffed as they walked down the hallway together. "Honestly," he scoffed quietly, quickly glancing back over his shoulder. "One would think a nation's leader would be more considerate for his nations, but I guess that man doesn't care about _anyone._ " Then he sighed, pushing his glasses up. "I do wonder what he has planned for me, though. Going by how _kind_ he was to both of you, I sort of fear the worst…"  
"Why would you?" Prussia muttered back, gritting his teeth a little. "You're his favourite sometimes. Usually Ludwig, but I guess that's changed now. At least he doesn't treat either of you like _dirt_."  
"He complimented you today, though," Austria said almost hopefully, looking at his cousin with a guilty look in his dark blue, almost purplish eyes.  
Prussia scowled at this, feeling a shiver go down his spine. "By sending me to go in suicidal, yes."  
Germany, who hadn't said a word and also hadn't looked at either his brother or his cousin yet, just huffed and picked up his pace a little, walking away from them without a single word or glance. Austria and Prussia both halted for a moment, knowing that the young nation wanted to get away from them for now, so they gave him that chance, even though neither was very keen on it.  
Prussia especially was hurt over his little brother's silent anger. "I've really screwed up this time, haven't I?" he sighed, feeling hollow with sadness. He had wanted to help, that was all he had wanted to do, and instead he had hurt his precious brother.  
Austria only patted his shoulder at first, trying to be reassuring. "He's just shocked," the older nation said softly, his words having quite the opposite effect on his younger cousin of what he intended. "He'll turn around, Gilbert, you'll see." When Prussia didn't react, the Austrian nudged him a little. "Now come on, we should go home. After today, we'll have work to do as well."  
Silently, Prussia nodded, following his cousin. Germany's angry voice and the bout of fear he'd had when he heard about the invasion in Poland still echoed in the free state's mind, and he felt miserable under it. He really _had_ screwed up this time.  
"Don't worry about that," came a soft voice from beside him, and Prussia glanced up to see Brandenburg walking by his side. Her blue eyes shone with concern as she looked at him. "I'm sorry for being so blunt," she told him softly, "but you've got much better things to worry about right now, my love."  
Prussia only sighed. _Yes, I suppose so…_

* * *

It was only days later that Prussia found himself facing his troops. It was almost like the old days, except that these men didn't look at him in awe or mumbled amongst one another in respectful tones; in fact, they now spoke behind his back quite mockingly.  
"Look at the man," he'd heard at one point. He hadn't been able to locate the man who had spoken, but neither had he been able to block out his voice. "How can someone like _him_ be a soldier, let alone a general? Do they honestly expect us to believe he's fit to lead an army?"  
Prussia bit back an angry retort, mainly because he didn't know who had said it and he didn't want to yell at no one in particular. His soldiers already doubted him this time around, he didn't want them to think even worse of him.  
The answer the man had gotten from someone else had almost made it better, but after a few seconds it had only gotten even worse. "I heard that he's the personification of Prussia," the other soldier said with a hint of that awe that Prussia was used to. That's where it went downhill, though. "I've heard the higher-ups talk about him; they say he's had a stroke some years back and he's too damn weak to fight now, and the Führer gave him this position only because it's a formality."  
Prussia gritted his teeth at this. _Almost right,_ he answered in thought. _I did have a stroke and I shouldn't be fighting, but Hitler gave me this position so that he wouldn't have to look at me all the time, I'm sure._  
He sighed. No doubt he would have to prove himself to these men. A new generation of soldiers, one that he hadn't been involved with right away, and suddenly barely anyone respected him anymore. What had happened? It had never been like that before.

So now he had invited a couple of the worst men to attack him -without weapons- in front of everyone. If he had to prove himself to these newbies, then he would do so old-school style: by showing each and every soldier under his command that he could beat anyone.  
It was only when he had these 6 young men, each muscular and most taller than him, that he realised what he had gotten himself into. His heart skipped a beat when they attacked, and he mainly stuck to dodging their blows at first. He duck, swivelled aside and stepped to and fro more quickly than he had done in ages, and he nearly lost his footing at one point.  
But then he got the hang of it again, and instinct quickly took over. Within a minute he had the first two one the ground, and they quickly got to their feet and backed off after that. Then he quickly hooked one leg under those of a third man, knocking him over as well while dodging a blow from yet another one. Prussia retaliated quickly, countering his next attack and pushing him off balance as well. They all stepped back once the nation had beaten them, some agitated, some surprised, but all of them with respect flashing in their eyes. Clearly none of them had expected the albino to beat them quite so easily, if at all.  
But suddenly Prussia felt something strike him hard on the back of his head, and he was almost certain that it wasn't a fist. Whatever it was, it made his vision flicker black and white for a second or so, and he fell to the ground with a grunt. As he heaved himself up again, the world swayed under his hands and feet after that hard blow, and he felt a hot liquid trickle down his neck.  
Still, he got himself to his feet, staggering a little as he stared at the soldier who had attacked him; the man had a stone clenched in one hand, his gaze cold as he stared back at his nation.  
Prussia scoffed. "What did I say about using weapons?"  
The man only raised an eyebrow at this. "A rock is a weapon, then?" he asked in a condescending voice.  
"Can it kill people?" Prussia sneered back. "From what I've seen the past 700-somewhat years, they damn well _can_. Not me, of course, but it's about principles here; when I say no weapons, you do not use weapons of any kind, even those that you can pick up from the floor. Got it?" If he wasn't so dizzy, he would have been more fierce. Right now, though, he only wanted to sit down and close his eyes until the world stopped spinning. Not in front of his soldiers. Not until he had shown this man that there was no breaking Prussia's rules without consequences.  
He narrowed his eyes in anger and raised his chin a little. "This won't go without punishment, young man," the free state said coldly. "I will think on what to do with you yet. As for the rest of you," he added, turning to the rest of the soldiers, who were all watching in silence, eyes wide. "I do hope I won't have to prove my skills to you anymore? I'm the most skilled soldier to have ever lived, I'm quite confident to say that's a _fact_ , not boasting. I was given this position because I was the best option they had. Understood?" No one said anything else, which was good enough to him.

He fought to keep himself from staggering too much as he went to his office, but once there the dizziness overwhelmed him completely, and he fell into his chair more than that he sat down in it. He was pretty sure whatever wound was on the back of his head would heal within minutes from now. His head was pounding and he felt sick, which made him fairly certain it had left him with a concussion. No problem, though, as that would heal quickly as well. If he ended up with another brain haemorrhage over this, well, at least he would be out of the army again.  
This was the very first time he actually wanted that.  
Or did he? Being among soldiers had been his life, from the day he had been brought to Acre to be raised in the Teutonic Order. It was all he'd ever known, and even though he was a lot less comfortable among these men, for obvious reasons, he still did feel at home.  
Gods, why did feelings have to be so complicated all the time?  
He didn't know exactly how long he'd sat there, eyes closed, breathing deeply, but when he opened his eyes again it was just about time to take his medication again. He brushed his fingertips over the back of his head, feeling some strands of his hair stiff with half-dried blood. No liquid anymore, so the cut must have healed by now. He also wasn't quite as dizzy anymore when he got up to get the bottle of pills and a glass of water.  
For the first time in years, Prussia found himself staring at the little pill in his hand, a small white blur in an equally blurred and almost equally white palm -he wasn't wearing his glasses- and then he sighed. He was no doubt the most skilled soldier around, just as he had always been. He had no doubt that, as he shown earlier, he would still have next to no trouble beating several soldiers at once if he had to. The only difference was that, nowadays, he was more easily beaten himself, too.  
The mock fight earlier had convinced Prussia that his eyes wouldn't be a problem in hand-to-hand combat, or maybe with swords he would be all right too, but unfortunately warfare these days relied more on the flying kind of metal than it did the cutting kind. How would he ever fire a bullet and hit his target like this? Then again, he probably wasn't the only soldier without perfect eyesight; wearing glasses on the battlefield shouldn't be too much of a problem.  
Taking his medication on time out on the battlefield? He could picture it already: _"Sorry, sorry, quit the shooting for a moment, I've got to take some pills. Anyone got some water, perhaps?"_ That wasn't going to happen. Maybe he could do without the medication by now, really, but he wasn't keen to try it out. And if he couldn't, how long could he keep up the war before he would have another stroke or, even worse, die out there?  
All this time he had longed to be able to remain a soldier, to live the life he'd always had. Now that he was back in the army, he could only wonder how he could have been so foolish as to hope for such a thing, and the real battle hadn't even started yet for him. Why had he told Hitler, years ago already, that he missed his old life of battle and glory? Although, thinking about it, the man would probably have forced him into this position even if he hadn't. For some reason he seemed to despise Prussia, and the albino guessed that if he didn't put in so much effort to stay on Hitler's good side, he would have been treated a lot worse yet.  
The Prussian sighed after swallowing his pills with some water. "What am I even doing here…?"

* * *

Germany stayed in Berlin for just a few days longer than his brother did; his leader had told him a day after the invasion in Poland, when he, Prussia and Austria returned to Hitler to discuss what would happen next, that the human may indeed have made an error in not telling Germany about his plans beforehand. He had gone through great trouble to ensure the young nation wouldn't be aware of what was going on, and now he saw that all that effort had been wasted, because he shouldn't have done it in the first place. Also, he had to admit, Prussia had been right when he had said that Germany's age should not be overlooked. In the end, Hitler had told him that his decision to have Germany in the army would stand, but to make up for his earlier mistakes he would give him some 'adjustment time', as he called it. Even though that so-called adjustment time was no more than a measly little week, Germany was grateful for the man's decision, although he was fairly certain that someone else had insisted on it until Hitler agreed. There were a handful of people who could persuade him to change his mind from time to time, although they shouldn't try to do it often.  
Whoever had persuaded their leader this time, Germany was grateful to them for it. If only they'd have been able to do something for Prussia, too.

Just earlier that day, they'd had a strategy meeting. Hitler seemed confident; it was only a matter of time before the United Kingdom and France would declare war on them for invading Poland, but the man was hardly worried about the prospect of fighting them. They'd signed a non-aggression pact with Russia, so they didn't have to worry about facing the Russian army 'until it suited them', the Austrian man had added. Germany had to hide his discomfort over that comment; it would be a repeat of the Great War if they ended up fighting the UK, France and Russia. From that point onward, he had been fighting to control his heartbeat and his breathing. He hadn't realised himself just how much lingering damage the Great War had left on him, but he couldn't deny now that Prussia had been right when he'd said the war had left Germany with trauma. He could only hope that, now that it had happened and it was inevitable that he would fight again, that trauma wouldn't affect his skill on the battlefield. The worst thing he could imagine was having a panic attack out there.  
The difference between this war and the last, from what he could tell so far, was that this time he knew what he was supposed to fight for, even if he didn't quite agree. Hitler wanted to expand, basically. If he had any other intentions with this war, Germany hadn't figured them out yet. It was that drive to expand their territory, however, that worried Germany.  
When the young nation had expressed his doubts, accompanied in this by Austria, the human had silenced them quickly. "He may not be here in person right now," he had said coolly, "but I recall one nation who expanded his territory significantly through warfare, just 200 years ago. How? With good tactics." He had then gestured to the portrait of Frederick the Great which hung on the wall. "If he could do it, then so can I," Hitler had assured his nations. "I am no less a competent strategist than Frederick the Great was, and the people I work with are reliable as well."  
"Don't let Prussia catch you saying that, sir," Austria had said carefully, smirking just a little. "He loved that man, and I don't think he'll take kindly to anyone likening themselves to him."  
"How is that my problem?" was the only cold response he got. Austria didn't answer, only lowered his gaze. Germany knew that his cousin's warning might have been _to_ Hitler, but it was _for_ Prussia's sake; their leader already didn't seem too happy with the free state, and the last thing they needed now was for Prussia to lose his temper in front of him. Germany felt his stomach twist at the mere thought, and completely against his will he was already picturing the scene in his mind.  
Well… potentially lingering damage from a stroke or not, Prussia could likely hold his own against any human opponent. Meanwhile, this particular human wasn't getting any younger, and though he was by no means frail, that thought did reassure Germany a bit.  
 _Gilbert could beat him with one hand on his back,_ the young nation told himself. _If he really had to, maybe even with two hands on his back. All Hitler has is a big mouth.  
_ A big mouth and all power in Germany. Followers and allies within _his_ government who would defend him whenever necessary. Sly and cruel ways of getting rid of any opposition.  
 _Yeah… brother should probably still try not to get on his bad side. The man himself might be all bark and no bite, his pack has many, many razor-sharp fangs to tear anyone apart._  
To distract himself, he looked at the map of Europe that lay on the table. There was one thing that he had been telling himself for a couple of days now, the only thing he could tell himself that actually managed to make him feel better.  
They would all get what they deserved.  
Poland had been Prussia's enemy for life. It had taken centuries of war and one very cunning girl and her government to free Prussia from Polish rule, and from then on forward, to Germany's knowledge, Poland had never been opposed to hurting Prussia, mentally even more than physically. It had been Austria and Hungary, not Prussia himself, who had told Germany the story of how Napoleon had captured Berlin; Prussia, already in pain and weak because of the siege, had put his trust in Poland, who had then been in Prussia's service in Berlin, for just a moment out of desperation. Poland had then proceeded to push the albino down the stairs, which had left him with a dislocated shoulder and a thankfully minor head injury. He _could_ have broken his spine or his neck, or his skull could have been shattered if he had landed on his head.  
Germany understood that Poland had plenty of reason to hate Prussia, but no amount of hatred could justify murder, and Poland had been very close that one time.  
France? How dare he consider himself Prussia's friend, only to betray his so-called 'friend' once Napoleon took over? And it had only gotten worse since. He had loathed Germany from the day the young nation had been born. He, too, had reason to be angry with Prussia, and maybe some of the other German states as well, but in those states' absence, that man had been acting out his anger on a young, innocent nation who hadn't even been born when everything he held a grudge about had happened. Germany despised France, not only for how he treated Prussia, but for how he treated Germany himself, too.  
Maybe the United Kingdom wasn't _as_ bad, but they had never seemed able to treat both Prussia and Germany like they did any other nation. Both from stories and his own experience, the young nation had been able to conclude that England was the worst of them: he had treated Prussia pretty much like dirt during their first meeting, in later ages he had been the only one out of his family who had never quite treated the albino normally, and now he, like France, seemed to distrust Germany for unknown reasons.  
It's not like he wasn't aware that his family had the tendency to cause trouble in the past, but that was all in the _past_. What did all of that have to do with Germany as a person?  
One way or the other, Germany could find reasons to despise nearly every country in Europe like this, either through how they had treated his brother in the past or for how they had been treating Germany lately, at meetings or behind his back. Even if hardly anyone said it to his face (although that had happened once or twice), Germany knew that no one had forgiven him for the Great War.  
They hadn't even _started_ that war! They had, as any ally would, given their consent to Austria-Hungary to take revenge for the assassination and their promise to support them. Yes, they had stepped out of line, but so had others. It had been _France_ who had employed chemical weapons first.  
Yes, the Germans had reason for shame over what they had done in the Great War, but everyone seemed to think they had been the only ones in the wrong, while in all actuality, they had _started_ next to none of it all. Some things, yes, but the majority of what they had done had been _reaction._

This war? Yes, this war had been started by them. When the day came that all of Europe would point fingers again, all finger would point to Germany, Prussia and Austria, though Austria probably least of all. Considering how things had been up till now, Austria might even come out of the mess that was to come as the 'poor victim' of the group, having been invaded and pushed around by his _evil_ cousins.  
The only consolation would also be the most painful part of it all: this time, all the nations and all the people who would blame Germany and Prussia for this war would be _right_.  
Of course he could cling to the foolish hope that this war wouldn't be as bad as the last. Last time, he had tried to believe everyone who assured him the war wouldn't take long. There was nothing to stop him from trusting those optimists again this time around.  
Nothing but his own common sense, that is.  
Prussia was right. Austria was right. Hitler, even, was right. Yes, Germany was young. Compared to most nations on this planet, he was just a child. He knew that, he knew better than to deny it. He was young, he was unexperienced, he could be naïve sometimes, _but he was no fool._  
Hitler was about to unleash hell on Europe, and Prussia and Germany would get the blame for it. Because that was inevitable and because Germany had been longing to take revenge for all the injustice he and his brother had been made to deal with, why not follow orders now? Whatever happened, he never wanted to be blamed for something he hadn't done ever again.  
So Germany would make sure he never would be.

* * *

 **Someone had mentioned that Prussia wouldn't be inactive in the war? 'Course not! He doesn't really want to, even though he knows he should, and he also won't get the chance to take it easy.**

 **Germany is _trying_ to find a way to cope, but I can only imagine the poor thing having a panic attack when a new war started... His very first war had been one of the most horrible, if not the most horrible in history, so he has only the worst memories.**

 **Oh, another thing that was mentioned was Austria's last name, Edelstein. I do have plans on what to do with that, but I won't say anything yet ;)**

 **I hope you liked this chapter, and thanks yet again for reading!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Sheesh, I finally got this done.  
I've suffered a severe lack of inspiration lately. For these chapters, that is. If I could magically have had this written for me, and maybe some bits still to come until WWII is well under way in this fic, I might even have written a chapter in one day.  
Not yet, though. Gotta work through this first.**

 **So sorry that I was late again!**

 **Zeivira, I have to agree with you. Reading back, that was perhaps the weakest stuff I've written in a long time, even though I can understand it a bit myself. I would be terrified to ask such a thing. Prussia's not like that, though...  
But yes, it is a plot-related thing. You'll find out what happened in a couple of chapters, and so will Prussia, the poor guy...**

 **Hah... I hope it's forgivable ^~^'**

 **Random news (I wonder if people will even remember what I'm talking about): I've finally finished that Cross Your Heart & Hope to Die PMV-thingy that I started working on, like, a year or so ago... Next step is to regain access to my YouTube account. So that's, you know... a thing.**

 **I hope you'll like this chapter!**

* * *

It took less than a month for Poland to capitulate, and the German invasion to have succeeded. By that time, France and the United Kingdom had long declared war on Germany. Meanwhile, though, Germany and the Soviet Union were working together, as they had promised one another some time ago already, and were planning to partition Poland between them, among others. Some other nations were already declaring their neutrality, like Italy and Ireland.  
When, early in October 1939, the last remnants of resistance in Poland died down, Hitler expressed his wishes to make peace with France and the UK now. No such thing happened, though, and preparation for further attacks were made. Among the plans was something called Case Yellow, which got Germany's stomach churning just thinking about it: Hitler was planning to invade Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands.  
Remembering the last time he had watched his army invade the land of one of his cousins, the young nation prayed his leader would bring those plans into practice. He knew those prayers were useless, though: no matter how much Prussia had tried to raise his little brother as a Christian, like himself, Germany had never been one to believe that there was a God out there, and his life so far had only convinced him further that there was no such thing as divine power to hear people's prayers and help them.  
Less than a week after the British Prime Minister had decided against making peace with the Germans, on the 16th of October, the German army launched their first air attacks on Britain. These were in Scotland, and Germany wondered for a moment what his brother would think when he would hear of this; Prussia still had a close bond with Scotland, even if contact between them had died down some time ago already, before the war had even started.  
All in all, though, there was little fighting being done yet, either on land or in the air, though there was the occasional battle.  
Meanwhile, measures were taken against Jews and enemies of the Nazis within not only Germany, but also Austria and the captured parts of Poland. Jews had to wear a star to show that they were Jewish, many of them were deported to the camps that Germany by now knew more about, although he sometimes wished he had never received any such information. He didn't particularly want to know how badly those people were being treated.

Prussia was allowed to come back home before the end of the year; he'd hardly been fighting, instead mostly overseeing the army as it went about the campaign in Poland. Germany hadn't fought in a single battle so far, as he was dragged from one place to another for meetings and speeches and the likes.  
The winter months were about making plans, and by the end of January the plans for an invasion in Denmark and Norway were finalised. In February, plans were made to invade France through a forest in the Ardennes; there was a defensive line on the border between France and Germany, the Maginot Line, which would make a German invasion difficult to say the least. However, if they went through that forest, which was actually not an easy route either, it would be a lot easier on them. The invasion of the Benelux was postponed due to bad weather.

As the weeks passed, battles became more frequent. Still, Prussia and Germany didn't fight; much of what was going on were air raids, and neither could fly a plane. Much to their surprise, though, Hitler didn't comment on any of that, accepting that both his nations had been absent from the battlefield most of the time, completely against their fearful expectations. Austria wasn't home anymore, though; he had to travel around much for the job he'd been given. Neither Prussia nor Germany knew what his task was, and not even Austria had answered their questions so far.  
In March, Prussia and Germany were both needed, anyway, so it was a good thing that they didn't have to be called back from somewhere out on the front. It was a meeting on the Italian border, between Hitler and Mussolini, and of course Germany and Prussia were required to discuss matters with Italy Romano and Veneziano while their leader were negotiating the terms of their upcoming alliance.

* * *

Both Italians were in a worse mood than they normally were, which in Veneziano's case meant that the man was rather moody. In Romano's case, it meant imminent danger for anyone foolish enough to meet his gaze. Still, eventually the German brothers found themselves in a restaurant together with Romano and Veneziano after their official business was finished.  
Veneziano sighed as he poked his cannoli with his fork. "They never seem to get the pasta right here," he muttered softly, more to himself than to anyone else.  
Beside Prussia, Germany furrowed his brows for just a moment at this comment, looking rather confused, but he said nothing. Maybe now that there was an alliance coming up and Germany wasn't a young child anymore, this was the right time for Prussia to start teaching his little brother some Italian.  
Prussia himself just shrugged, silent for a moment so that he could swallow his own food quickly. "I don't think there's anything wrong with it, actually," he replied calmly, not looking up at Veneziano now. Something told him he would be better off avoiding eye contact with either of the Italians now.  
Romano huffed at this. "That's because you're an uncultured Potato Bastard," he grumbled. Then he ignored everyone and everything again.  
Germany sighed eventually. "Might I ask what the conversation is about?" he asked politely, but with an edge of irritation to his voice. He rolled his eyes the moment Italy Veneziano answered curtly that it was about the food, and the young nation mumbled something about _everything_ being about food, art and women with the Italian brothers.  
Italy Veneziano didn't take kindly to that, narrowing his bright brown eyes at the blond nation. "You think so? If you don't want me to talk about those things, how about I tell you again how uneducated you are? Honestly, you still don't speak Italian, do you?"  
Germany gritted his teeth. "Do you seriously believe I've had the time to study anything lately, Italy?" he retorted, his grip on his fork tightening. Prussia watched a little nervously as, probably without realising what he was doing, Germany drove the metal object into the table. Great, now they would have to pay to repair or even replace that poor, innocent table. At least the Italian nations had been kind enough to pay for this dinner despite their foul moods.  
Meanwhile, Germany just went on. "After the Great War, Prussia and I have had to work our asses off just to be able to eat for _years_ , then when that finally got better we had other stuff to keep us busy and now, ever since Hitler rose to power, we've had more important things on our minds _yet again._ " He huffed, finally pulling his fork out of the table again. "So no, I still don't speak Italian, or French for that matter, or anything other than German, Dutch and English. No, I also still don't care to learn."  
Prussia decided to interrupt now before things could get any worse. "Can we maybe not kill each other before we've finished our dinner, please?" Germany muttered an apology first, and then Italy Veneziano sighed and apologised as well. Romano didn't respond, naturally.  
So instead of provoking a fight, Veneziano tried to sound a lot calmer when he complained in a soft voice: "I really am sorry about that, it's just… Our leader's been thoroughly driving me up a wall lately. About as high as the dome on the St Peter's, he's driven me _that far_ up a wall by now. I guess I haven't been in the best mood for some time now."  
 _You think?_ Prussia bit back that comment and just nodded. He usually wasn't the one to make peace, so he wasn't used to this. Quite the opposite, he was normally the one starting the fights, and if he wasn't careful now, that was exactly what he would end up doing. Best to stay silent as long as he could.  
Romano snorted, muttering his agreement with his younger brother's statement. Then he looked at Prussia and Germany, and for the first time since they had finished up their official business that evening, he showed some consideration for the young blond nations, speaking German instead of Italian. That is, he spoke what he perceived as being German and what the two younger nations could just about follow. "So how's your boss, then?"  
"Insane," Prussia and Germany replied in unison.  
Then, Germany shrugged dismissively. "Although to be fair, not everything he's done so far is bad. Despite all the bad stuff, there's a lot that he's done right for us, too." He was silent for a moment, glancing at Prussia, then added: "About the war, well… If I have to be honest, I've been waiting for a chance to get back at some of the nations around here. Of course I hate the war and I want it to end already, but in the meantime, there are a few things that I'm… looking forward to."  
Prussia stared at his little brother in shock, wondering frantically what had been going on in Germany's mind all this time that he would say such a thing. Then he figured it out. Then he felt the same dark desire well up inside himself. He could feel his blood rushing through his veins as his heartbeat quickened with excitement, and the free state grinned. "I'm so going to crush France," he muttered darkly with a chuckle, picturing it in his head. "I'll pulverise the man. Him and Poland, once I get my hands on that fleeing coward." Poland had been impossible to find during the invasion, and Prussia still wanted to give him at least a good punch in the face. Partitioning him wasn't nearly enough revenge for centuries of domination, and the shit that Poland had done after that still needed repaying, too.  
Germany snorted at his brother's comment. "Just promise to leave some of France so that I can have a go, too, all right?" His icy blue eyes were ablaze with a cold fire as he said this, and although Prussia wanted to tear France apart with his bare hands also, it did sicken him to finally hear that his precious, innocent little brother wanted the exact same thing. That he wasn't so innocent, after all.  
Prussia had known about himself that he had a rather twisted mind, that he could be cruel and ruthless and sadistic from time to time, but he had seriously believed that Germany wasn't like that.  
"It's what he picked up from you," came a voice behind Prussia, and the albino could only just stop himself from looking at who had spoken. He had recognised the voice as Saxony's immediately. "I've told you before, Prussia. You're a maniac. I know and understand now that you can't help it either; it's what the world made you into, what with all the… all the crap that you've been put through. But you _are_ a pretty sick-minded guy, you know, even if you're keeping yourself under control excellently these days. Of course a child who grows up with someone like that won't exactly be in his right mind, either, when he's older!"  
"Saxony, hush," came Brandenburg's voice, hard and stern, before she leant closer to Prussia; he could hear her voice next to his ear, softer and warmer now. "Germany's been having a hard time, sweetheart, and the poor boy just has no clue how to deal with everything. He's terrified of the war, and he's trying to find a way to suppress that fear; he believes convincing himself that he wants all this to happen will work." She sighed, and finally Prussia glanced over to her, very casually, while Italy Romano muttered something about both German brothers being absolute psychos. Veneziano told Germany to not mind his elder brother, then complained about Mussolini some more while Germany ranted about Hitler. They seemed to be enjoying themselves like that, in a weird way, and Prussia let them be for now.  
His heart warmed when he met Brandenburg's gaze. Her eyes, those of Holy Rome and Fritz and Germany, those were the only pairs of eyes that he could look into and feel loved in an unconditional way. The free state almost forgot everything else around him as he stared into her blue eyes, and he had to remind himself that he couldn't stare for too long or start talking to her.  
Brandenburg blinked warmly at him, but sadness also flashed in her eyes. "He's lost, Prussia. He doesn't know what to do and he's scared. He doesn't really mean what he said. Although…" She sighed softly, looking over Prussia's shoulder at Germany, eyes shimmering with pity. "He knows that it's not true, but subconsciously, he seems to blame France for what happened to you in '32; it was only after France taunted you like he did that you collapsed and had to be taken to hospital. So the part where he claims to want to hurt France might be true…" She looked a little teary-eyed when she looked back at Prussia, but she blinked away those tears quickly. "Saxony wasn't wrong, though, I'm afraid… Your state of mind did play a part in Germany's behaviour now, and more than you would probably like to know. I'm sorry…"  
Prussia didn't respond, but he felt his stomach twist when Brandenburg told him this. He had to help his little brother somehow, but how could he, if he didn't even know how to help himself?  
"We'll be there for him," Saxony assured him, as if he was reading his younger brother's mind like they all seemed able to do somehow. "Though I don't know how well that will go down, to be honest. He doesn't recognise any of us; to him, we might as well be figments of his imagination." The deceased kingdom sighed for a moment. "Especially me, Brandenburg and all the others he never got to meet in person. We'll try, though. Some moral support and advice is bound to do him some good, even if it's his so-called 'imagination' talking to him." The Saxon then snorted at his own words and muttered something about Germany having _no_ imagination at all, which should be proof to the young nation that his family was real whenever he saw them.  
Prussia was about to reply in thought, knowing after so many years that he could communicate with them that way, but Italy Veneziano broke through his thoughts before he could do anything. "Prussia, you're being talked to!" he drew the albino's attention, who only then realised that he had indeed been asked a question. The little Italian looked at him curiously. "Wow, you really were out of it for a moment, weren't you? What were you staring at?"  
Prussia stammered something incomprehensible even to himself, and Veneziano ignored him, staring in the direction Prussia had been looking in earlier, when he'd been looking at Brandenburg. Then the old nation laughed. "Wow, and here I thought you weren't that into women!"  
Confused now, Prussia looked back too, finding that Brandenburg was gone -and indeed, there was a woman sitting at a table on the other side of the restaurant, eating quietly, right in his line of sight. Then Romano and Germany also glanced over, and Germany snickered softly while Romano just huffed and muttered something about 'that damn Potato Bastard having good taste'. Prussia blushed completely involuntarily. Now how was he going to lie his way out of this one?! Then again, it was probably better that they thought he had been staring at her than that they knew the truth, anyway.  
It was only after a solid minute that he had processed one specific part of Italy Veneziano's comment, and he turned to stare at the older nation indignantly. "What do you mean, you didn't think I was that into women?" he demanded, confused and a little offended. Sure, he didn't mind men, like any other nation -Fritz had proven that to him- but he did actually like women more.  
Veneziano only shrugged. "Well, the only girls I've ever heard you talk about were Brandenburg and miss Hungary, and I've heard France and Spain gossiping about how they'd tried to get a girl for you -multiple times!- and you refused." He smiled sheepishly then. "Gets a man thinking, you know? Those two also told me about Fritz, so-"  
"We don't mention Fritz," Prussia interrupted him, blushing even more profoundly now. He wasn't quite sure how much Germany knew, even though he was certain his little brother was aware of at least parts of it. He'd never kept his brief affair with his favourite king a secret, but he had never gone into detail about it, either. "Not ever. All right?" Another reason not to talk about this sort of thing _now_ was that Jews, Gypsies and people who were handicapped in any shape or form weren't the only ones who were persecuted and locked up; homosexuals, or actually anyone who wasn't straight as a ruler, were on the long list as well.  
 _Way to give Hitler even more doubts about me._ He had figured out that his albinism and his slightly weaker constitution than Germany's, especially after his stroke, were the reasons his leader didn't seem to like him too much, or they were at least among the reasons. He probably shouldn't add to the list; at least now he was still treated normally, albeit without respect sometimes.  
Germany just sighed. "Brother," he began in mock annoyance. "You should know that I know more about you and Fritz than anyone else likely does, aside from yourself." Prussia looked up at this, confused. Germany shuddered for a moment before clarifying: "You… talk. When you're half-awake. And God knows I've dealt with you in a semi-awake state more than once. I've heard more things than I cared to know, but alas, it can't be helped now."  
Romano snorted at Germany's disgusted tone. "Come _on_ , Potato Head," he laughed mockingly. "Are you that much of a child?"  
Offended, Germany narrowed his eyes at him. "Absolutely not," he replied coldly, "but tell me: would you want to know the details about _your_ brother's love life?"  
"God forbid."  
"There's my point."

Thoroughly embarrassed as he was, intentionally and unintentionally, Prussia watched the rest of the evening unfold with joy. It seemed Germany was starting to get along real well with Italy Veneziano again, like they had done when Germany had been little, and Romano appeared to tolerate the young nation a little more after that evening, despite the rocky start they'd had.  
Still, when all the fun they managed to have eventually came to an end, Saxony's voice echoed through Prussia's mind. _He doesn't recognise any of us._ He'd never thought about it as much as he did at that moment, but while he had been missing his family, Germany had probably only been wondering what his family had even been like. Vague memories were all he had, and Prussia knew how time could wash away faces and voices; he had tried to remember his old friend in the Teutonic Order once, a knight called Frederick, but he couldn't picture the man who had been like a brother to him anymore. He didn't know _anything_ about him anymore, except that he had made Prussia feel loved when no one else did, like the Prussian king who shared his name had done more than a millennium later. For those memories, hazy remnants of feelings, he was still fond of the knight, but that was all he had. He'd spent more than 20 years by Frederick's side.  
Germany had been 4 years old when his family had died. Of course he couldn't remember any of them.  
But in this company, Prussia wasn't the only one to vividly remember their faces, their voices, their personalities, he was certain of that. So when he and Germany spent the night in a hotel room next to the Italian nations (it had been too late for them to go home, too), the Prussian quietly slipped out of the room the moment he was certain that Germany was asleep and carefully knocked on the door to the room where Italy Veneziano and Romano were. Thankfully he got a response, and it was Veneziano who opened the door -he could just about picture Romano slamming the door in his face the moment he saw Prussia in the middle of the night.  
Veneziano, on the other hand, just blinked sleepily and yawned. "What…?"  
"Can I come in?" Prussia asked him quietly.  
"Tell him 'no'!" came an annoyed grunt from Romano, and Prussia couldn't suppress a smile at this. So Romano.  
Veneziano looked over his shoulder with a sigh. "I'm letting him in just to piss you off, all right?" he answered with even more annoyance, pulling Prussia with him when he walked back into the room and closed the door behind him. So Veneziano.  
A bit more awake but still yawning, Veneziano plopped himself down on the edge of his bed. "What's it you want?" he asked drowsily, rubbing his eyes in the hope to wake up a little more.  
Prussia decided to cut right to the chase. "Do you still do paintings, Veneziano?" When the little Italian answered yes, even more confused now, the albino's heart quickened. "Do you think you could do portraits of people you haven't seen in decades? There's this thing I would like for Ludwig, and…"  
Veneziano smiled warmly, silencing him with a gesture of his hand. "I think I know what you mean," he answered in a soft voice, "and yes, I could do that. All of them, though? That might take a while."  
Prussia nodded; he had already taken that into consideration, and he had already made plans for that. "Do you think 31 years will be enough?"  
Of course he would want his little brother to see his family as soon as possible, but somehow, his centennial in 1971 seemed like the best time for such a thing, especially considering that Italy would need a lot of time for a project so grand. Time that he wouldn't have for a while, if the Italians were going to join the war soon.  
 _Have patience, my precious brother,_ Prussia told Germany in silence. _You'll finally see everyone's faces again, and more. Brand, earlier incarnations, Saxony and Holy Rome…  
_ He looked at Brandenburg for a moment, who stood by the window, her eyes glassy with emotion and the widest smile Prussia had seen in a while on her face. She didn't say anything with words, but her lips moved, forming what Prussia could recognise as being 'thank you'.  
Just thinking about it got him emotional, too, and he had to suppress that in front of Veneziano and Romano -who had started snoring just now. _Your family is all around you, Ludwig,_ he thought as he thanked his Italian friend over and over again, so much that Veneziano eventually just laughed and told him that it was all right. _They're always around you, around both of us.  
Maybe this will help you see them._

* * *

10 May 1940. The invasion in the Low Countries began. Germany was sent to Luxembourg, and Prussia was in the Netherlands; Hitler had been quite pleased to find out about Prussia's good relationship with his younger cousin, and he had found out that he actually preferred Prussia to handle diplomacy over Germany, all for the simple fact that Prussia was more familiar with each and every one of the nations in Europe, let alone the rest of the world. He knew Japan's ways and spoke his language, he knew Austria better than anyone else (although Austria was the rare case he would rather leave to Germany, for obvious reasons), the Italians knew him and liked him (Romano in his own weird way) and yet again -he spoke their language. It helped a lot in diplomatic situations for one person to speak the language of the one they desired something from.  
Germany had sighed an muttered something about Italy Veneziano when he had heard those careful complaints about his lack of knowledge of other languages. Prussia hadn't felt so good in weeks, on the other hand. He couldn't remember the last time he had received such praise from their judgemental leader.  
Now, however, he was supposed to find Netherlands and convince him to surrender or even join them. He was, after all, part of their family, and that made him as Germanic as they were. Not to mention that Netherlands fit with Hitler's ideal of the Aryan race for at least 90% -only his eye colour could be considered off, being more greenish than blue, but essentially being a mix of the two.  
The problem was that Prussia didn't think Netherlands, or either of his siblings for that matter, would be so easy to convince to join them as Austria had been. This was certainly going to be difficult, especially since they had declared their neutrality in this war and all three of the Benelux siblings was as strong-willed as anyone in the German family was.  
Another thing was that Prussia had no clue where to even start looking. Netherlands could be in his house in The Hague, or maybe he had gone to his royal family the moment the invasion started, which also seemed like a logical thing to do. Perhaps he was somewhere with his troops, preparing for battle. There were numerous places where Netherlands could be, and even with how small the country was, it could take Prussia ages to find him. He had no idea where to start indeed.  
Then again, he was also expected to join the attack on The Hague today, so in actual fact his dilemma was solved quite easily. However, during the battle he couldn't even begin to think about searching for his cousin. For God's sake, there was a battle to fight, there were soldiers to be encouraged and a city to capture. He couldn't very well split himself in two and do both at the same time, could he? The battle was more important, it was that simple.  
Which, of course, meant that by the time the battle ended and the German army, much to their own astonishment, had lost, Prussia hadn't found Netherlands yet.  
And honestly, he couldn't care less. If this could end without him having had the chance to potentially hurt his remaining family members, that would be all the better.

* * *

Germany had better luck in locating Luxembourg, and he found himself facing the smaller nation by sunset already. As he was trying over and over to reason with his cousin, he felt his patience running out quickly.  
"You know that you stand no chance, Luxembourg," the young German sighed for what felt like the tenth time or more already. "Those French troops who were here to aid you cannot possibly defend everyone; most of your land is already occupied." He'd never thought an invasion could be finished within a day, but it was happening right here, right now.  
Even despite all this, though, Luxembourg looked more confident than Germany thought was wise. "So it's the Great War all over again, then?" he sneered angrily, his eyes narrowed and flashing with contempt. "Am I going to be locked up like my poor sister was back then?" He gritted his teeth and huffed in anger, but that was all he did; he probably realised that Germany was right, and he didn't stand a chance, not on a national scale and most certainly not on a personal one.  
Germany tried hard to control his irritation, but it proved to be increasingly difficult. "There's no need for any of that if you just cooperate," he explained, trying to sound calm but with frustration edging his voice. "If you give in now and just follow orders, that would make life a whole lot easier for you, I promise."  
"Like you've been doing?" Luxembourg only snapped in response. Germany's words had only served to anger the older nation more rather than to convince him to stop resisting. He took a single, nervous step away from Germany, as if he knew that what he was saying was a step too far, but his eyes were still filled with disgust and anger as he spoke. "That's what you've been doing, isn't it?" he went on. "You decided to stop resisting and to just follow orders like a good little nation. You filthy _coward._ At this rate, you're nothing more than Hitler's damn _dog._ "  
Germany could handle Luxembourg's stubbornness. He could handle his cousin making his own life a million times more difficult that it needed to be. But to be called a coward and Hitler's dog in basically the same sentence? No. This was just not a good day to be testing Germany's patience, no matter who you were.  
He landed a hard punch just under Luxembourg's chest, one of the nastiest spots he could think of to hit, which knocked the older nation back against the wall. He was gasping for breath, wheezing in pain as he did, and after only a few seconds his wobbly legs gave out under him. As he sat there, trembling in pain and still struggling to breathe, he glared up at Germany defiantly.  
The young German only stared down at him, enraged. "You think I've got no free will, is that it?" he demanded sharply. A voice in the back of his mind told him to back off, that he would regret this sooner rather than later, but he silenced it quickly. He was really in a foul mood today, and Luxembourg had quickly burnt up what little patience Germany had had that day.  
The small nation was foolish enough not to give up yet. "Either you've abandoned your free will out of fear," he sneered, his voice hoarse with pain, "or you're a heartless monster like your leader is. You should be flattered that I assumed the former and not the latter; at least cowardice is no sin."  
"Watch your tongue!" Germany snapped with a strong kick to Luxembourg's stomach, which left the older man whimpering and trembling in agony. How did any of this make him a coward?! Germany was furious as he was trying to figure it out. Rather than an act of cowardice, what he was doing and had been doing for years now was a selfless thing to do; to put aside his own ideals and ignore his own morals in order to follow his leader, all for the sole purpose of being there for his people. He _knew_ that Hitler couldn't be stopped, not by his hand or by Prussia's, and to even attempt it would be foolish. At least like this he could still play his part in the government and look after his people as he should be doing. If he followed his own heart and went against his leader, in whatever way, his people might end up without a nation, and then where would they be? It was true that fear played a part in this also, but it was by no means his main drive for following orders. It was all for his people, and for his brother, too.  
He was no coward, and neither was he a dog to his leader! Seething with anger, Germany leant over Luxembourg, staring him straight in the eyes. "If you're not going to be smart and surrender," he said to him in a low voice, "then maybe you can at least take comfort in the knowledge that your suffering won't be long; you've as good as lost already, Luxembourg. Spare your people and yourself the pain of having to resist any longer and just admit defeat."  
This time, Luxembourg didn't answer. He stared up at Germany in silence, and for the first time the younger nation saw a flash of fear in his eyes. What was it that he was afraid of, though? Having to surrender within a day, or Germany?  
The thought that it might be the latter made Germany feel sick, and he turned around, feeling a shiver go down his spine as he did. His conscience had been right: he regretted all of what he'd just done already. But he couldn't stay and help Luxembourg now, doing so might actually only make things worse for the both of them. So he quickly left, instructing two of his soldiers to stand on guard outside the house should Luxembourg try to flee, although he was certain his cousin would attempt no such thing. Not tonight, anyway.

* * *

It took mere days for the invasion of the Netherlands to end in success for the Germans. After meeting with more resistance than in Luxembourg, the Germans had on the 14th resorted to bombing the city of Rotterdam, destroying it completely. It was that evening that the Dutch capitulated. It was also that evening that Prussia finally managed to find Netherlands.  
The younger nation was still trembling in pain when Prussia found him, but he stood defensively with a knife in his hand the moment Prussia walked into the building he was hiding in. The free state looked at that weapon for a moment, then sighed.  
"That won't be necessary, Neddie," he told him calmly, showing that both his own hands were empty.  
The Netherlands only narrowed his eyes angrily, though, and gripped the knife a little tighter. "Back off, Prussia," he snarled at the albino. "My people may have given up the fight already, but I won't!"  
The poor thing looked positively pathetic as he stood there, still hurt from the bombing on Rotterdam and the other battles, his voice quivering lightly as he spoke. Prussia felt bad for him. "What is it you hope to achieve with that?" he asked with a sigh. "Do you want to beat my army on your own? Or do you just want to beat _me?_ You know that neither is possible, Netherlands." He took a step closer now, to which Netherlands stumbled backward a bit, but with the knife still raised defensively. "The only place where they're still fighting in down in Zealand," Prussia tried to reason with the injured nation. "Anyone with half a brain knows that those battles will soon end, too, and it will end in _our_ victory. You can fight me now, but you've never been able to beat me and you never will."  
Netherlands huffed at this. "If I can just knock those stupid glasses off your face-!" he began protesting, but Prussia silenced him by just shaking his head calmly.  
"Won't work," the free state assured his cousin. "The glasses are for convenience; I'd have to be blind for my eyesight to give me any real trouble in battle, I'm afraid. Not having my glasses would only mean I'd have to put in some effort -I'd still be able to beat you with one hand on my back." He could understand why the anger in Netherlands's greenish-blue eyes intensified when Prussia said these things, but it honestly wasn't Prussia just boasting about his skills. It was facts. Even though Netherlands had seen his fair share of battles when he was younger, he had always focused more on trading and on politics than he did battle. Prussia guessed that the one advantage Netherlands would have was that he was so tall, which meant he could more easily overpower shorter nations like the Italians, to name an example. The meagre few centimetres that he was taller than Prussia wouldn't do him any good, though, and Prussia was too skilled for Netherlands to ever hope to win.  
The Prussian shook his head with another deep sigh. "Look, I'm sorry that it has to be like this," he said, almost pleadingly. "I understand your anger and I know how it feels to have to surrender like this, if you recall. Please understand that we're being forced into this, also; we don't _want_ to hurt you."  
"Speak for yourself," Netherlands snapped back, his eyes widening indignantly. "Germany seem all that unwilling when he beat up Luxembourg, from what I heard! It's lucky that Luxembourg wasn't more seriously hurt than he was."  
Prussia froze at this, his heart skipping a beat. Germany had done what? "I-is he okay?" he couldn't help asking. Netherlands answered with contempt dripping from every words that if 'okay' meant 'alive and in one piece', then yes, but there wasn't much more to be said. Prussia's mind came to a halt when he heard those words, and he tried to picture Germany, his dear little brother, beating up Luxembourg. He couldn't. He truly couldn't picture it in his mind.  
Meanwhile, Netherlands became more fierce in his anger. "I thought you'd raised him to be kinder than that!" he accused Prussia. "I thought you'd raised him to have a _heart_ , but I guess you wouldn't even know what that is, do you? I swear to God, Prussia, the things you used to do back in the day! I suppose it really was too much to ask for Germany to be raised to be less violent than you."  
"Shut up," Prussia interrupted him in an angry mutter. He couldn't believe that Germany had attacked his cousin like that, and he wouldn't stand to take the blame for what Germany may or may not have done, either!  
But Netherlands wouldn't stop now. His eyes were for once alight with many different emotions, the most visible of which were rage, deep worry for his siblings, and fear and uncertainty. "If someone else had had the task of raising that boy, maybe none of this would have happened," the injured nation said, half to himself it seemed. "Hanover or Hesse or Brunswick…" He glanced up at Prussia now, his gaze almost apologetic as he finished: "Even if just for Germany's sake, sometimes I wish that… that Brandenburg had survived that battle instead of you."  
With a roar of rage and pain, Prussia lunged for him, but he stopped mid-movement. Brandenburg suddenly stood between him and his younger cousin, her eyes pleading. "Leave him, Prussia," she begged him. "He's angry and scared and worried about Luxembourg and Belgium -even about you and Germany, even if it shows in anger. He doesn't know what he's saying. He's just capitulated and lost a major city, his sister is being attacked and his little brother is hurt… Wouldn't you react the same way?"  
While she spoke, Netherlands seemed shocked at his own words, and he involuntarily dropped the knife. "I-I'm sorry," he choked out. "I-I shouldn't have… That went too far… I'm sorry."  
Although Prussia believed that he truly was sorry, it was because of Brandenburg that he stepped back, trying to control himself, even though he was trembling with rage and also grief. He needed a moment before he could speak again. "So am I," he choked out with some difficulty. "For the invasion, for the bombing, for what happened to Luxembourg-" He still couldn't wrap his head around that idea. Would he even dare to ask his little brother what had happened when they saw each other again? He wasn't sure.  
The Prussian took a deep breath. "Just leave," he told Netherlands suddenly. "I was told to take you with me if you wouldn't cooperate, but I won't. If you want to fight, then go right ahead. Good luck finding a way to do so." He looked away, unable to look at Netherlands any longer after what he'd just heard and the harsh words his cousin had just spoken to him. "I'll say you've fled together with your government yesterday and that I couldn't find you, all right? Best get out of here quickly." Netherlands didn't react immediately, and Prussia could tell without looking at him that the small nation's pride was in conflict with his common sense now. Prussia just gritted his teeth in frustration. "Before I change my mind, Neddie!" he urged in a strained voice.  
Almost tentatively, Netherlands moved past Prussia, achingly slow as if he still wasn't sure whether or not to flee now that he was given the chance. Once he was past Prussia, however, he broke into a run. Prussia quickly glanced after him, and caught a glimpse of the nation's wrist poking out from under his sleeve; it was all black, a massive bruise. _Rotterdam._ Prussia's stomach twisted as he tried to imagine what might have happened if the attack had been on Amsterdam instead.  
Once Netherlands was out of sight, Prussia let himself flop down onto the floor, hiding his face in his hands with a deep sigh. They'd won another battle today, but he felt utterly defeated. His cousin's words still rang through his mind, and he felt sick thinking about it all. Netherlands had hurt him more with those words than he could ever have done with that knife. The free state just told himself that that was what people did when they felt cornered: they lashed out in whatever way they still could, and words just so happened to be powerful weapons. He would have done the same. He _had_ done the same, although he was still more partial to physical attacks himself.  
He also couldn't get his mind off Germany hurting Luxembourg. He found it hard to believe, but found that it was even harder not to believe it.

Anxiety sparked in him like a little flame, growing bigger and bigger as he thought about his little brother. He didn't want to think like that, but he began to fear by now that this war might actually bring out the worst in Germany. And thinking back to how close he had been to attacking Netherlands earlier, Prussia feared he might be headed down that same path.  
 _What is that man doing to us…?_

* * *

 **I think I will have to extend the 'I'll apologise beforehand in case the next chapter is late' thing until, say, June. I've got my finals coming up in May and I honestly am often either too busy because of it or I lose inspiration to write. Not to worry, I'll keep going, but it might not be regular updates for a while I'm afraid.  
I hope that's understandable. Meh, I'm sure it is. You've all proven to be wonderful readers, not impatient or nagging me to update more quickly or anything... You're all as awesome as Prussia in that, people! Thanks so much for all that!  
**

 **And now I've forgotten if I had anything more to say, so I'll leave it at this...**

 **Thanks all for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Well, everyone who commented on Austria's work... good job on that!**

 **Thanks to everyone who followed, favourited and / or reviewed!**

 **Zeivira, I'll have to reply once again. Brandenburg being like a mother to Germany? Hell. Yes. Lately I've actually been thinking about the same thing! If she had survived, the structure of that family would have been so different from what it is now... It was only mentioned briefly in a little PruBrand spin-off I wrote, but Brandenburg wouldn't exactly have minded it very much if she'd have been a _real_ mother, not just a mother-figure like she's been to Württemberg... Prussia got freaked out by that, naturally.  
Honestly, I even decided that, if Brandenburg were still alive, in some AU where none of the German family had ever died or anything, I might have given Brandenburg and Prussia a daughter at one point, Berlin, nickname Lin (or Lynn, however you want to spell it) and she would've been like a big sister to Germany and... aahhhh the cuteness... the _cuteness_.**

 **But yeah, that didn't happen... unfortunately.**

 **Anyways, on to the next chapter before I start rambling too much (whoops). I hope you'll like it!**

* * *

Before the end of May 1940, the Germans had brought the entire Benelux to surrender, Belgium being the last of her siblings. Then in June, they won against France and signed an armistice with them. It was during the Battle of France that the Italian army joined in, and they signed an armistice with the French just days after the Germans did. The German _Luftwaffe_ made attacks on the United Kingdom from planes, bombing airfields and other military bases on the islands. Not long into the Battle of Britain, however, military bases weren't the only targets anymore.

Germany sighed as he heard a report from Commander-in-Chief Göring about a mistake their air force had made two days before, on 24 August. He could feel it in his gut that this mistake would not be without consequence, and common sense only supported that theory.  
"So they bombed a part of London?" he asked, just for clarification: Göring had so far avoided stating this directly, instead talking about 'Cripplegate' and some almost cryptic comments that Germany finally loosely translated into 'London was hit'. He wasn't pleased.  
The human looked a little uncomfortable with Germany's reaction. "Well, accidents can happen, Germany," he said in their soldiers' defence. "If you knew how to fly an aircraft, you'd also know that it is not always the easiest task to hit your targets. However, I do fully agree that this was a significant mistake-"  
"Massive screw-up."  
"…If that's what you want to call it. Right now there's nothing we can do but prevent anything like this from happening again." He stifled a sigh, and the man then looked Germany in the eyes for just a moment. "I only wanted to let you know so that you can prepare for any consequences this might have, whatever those might be."  
Germany huffed and got to his feet. "I shall do so, then," he stated flatly, feeling tense with frustration. "And I shall do so at home; Austria has only been back since yesterday, and we haven't had the chance to catch up yet. Also, I would rather not leave him and Prussia alone for too long. So if I'm not needed for anything else…"  
Göring answered calmly that he, at least, didn't need Germany anymore that day, although others might not think the same thing. Germany didn't take any notice of that. Right now he only wanted to go home to his brother and cousin, where he could pretend that not everything was chaos and, maybe, they could go out for a drink together that evening. It had been ages since they'd had a break.  
Germany himself had been in France until not long ago, where to both his annoyance and also his relief he hadn't been able to come face to face with France himself; he still wanted to at least punch the old nation, but he was afraid of himself, too, fearing that he might lose control like he'd done with Luxembourg.  
Prussia had been overseeing the occupation of the Netherlands further, to make up for his failure after Hitler had gotten angry over the Prussian not finding their cousin. He'd hated doing that, and was constantly on edge while he was there, Germany had been told. The young nation had been able to tell from the bags under Prussia's eyes when they first saw each other again a week ago that his brother had hardly slept since May. That despite having been home since early July, although Germany could understand why his brother still had trouble sleeping even now; he himself had more bad nights than good, too, after all.  
Prussia's stay in the Netherlands had been cut short, which might also be another reason he slept so badly these days. In one of the last days of June, the albino nation had been extremely dizzy, unable to stay balanced for more than a minute at a time, and the constant headache he'd had for a few days already had intensified suddenly. For once it had been Prussia's own initiative to see a doctor about it, although no one had tried to stop him from doing so. The free state had feared for a moment that it might have been something serious, a fear that Germany had shared with him when he'd been told the story of what had happened, which proved to not be all too far-fetched in the end: Prussia had been sent home that same day, although the actual going home part didn't happen until a handful of days later. Apparently the stress his work there entailed had done his blood pressure no good, and he had been taking his medication too irregularly as well. There had been no problems yet other than the effects stress had on any other person, but considering his medical record by now, it was best not to risk anything.  
By the time he came home, however, Hitler hadn't made it any easier on him here than it had been in the Netherlands. The man had assured Prussia that his break would be only that -a break, temporary and hopefully brief. The army had regulated breaks, anyway, and if Prussia's condition meant he needed one more regularly than most soldiers, that could be arranged. However, he was too valuable to let him stay away for too long, and under no circumstances would he be leaving the army. This first period off would perhaps be the longest, until he had recovered sufficiently to serve his purpose again, but he shouldn't expect every break to be this long.  
Germany was glad the man was at least sensible enough not to force Prussia to work when he really wasn't capable of doing so, and he seemed to have finally realised how important the free state was, an invaluable soldier and, in some cases, a diplomat, a genius with strategies and also good as a medic. Germany wouldn't want to lose someone as competent as his elder brother during a war such as this one, either, if he had to be honest.  
Austria was on one of his regulated breaks now, the second he'd had that year. He still wasn't willing to talk about his new job, which really only served to make Germany even more curious about it. He'd learnt his lesson about asking too much about it, though, when Austria had snapped at him the evening before, telling him that he hadn't come home to still be focused on his work all the time. Germany could understand that, because admittedly, now that he was back in Berlin also, he felt the same.

When Germany came back home, he found Austria calmly reading a book at the table, though his eyes had the same troubled, haunted look in them that they had all the time now. He never seemed fully at ease. Germany was about to say a greeting to him, but Austria quickly gestured for him to be quiet. Right at that moment, there was a soft snore in the room, and the young nation looked to his right to see Prussia stretched out on the couch, fast asleep. Germany smiled at this, happy that his brother was finally catching up on sleep a bit. He really needed to rest more, despite being home all the time now. He guessed it was no easy task to rest up and become fit to work again with Hitler breathing down his neck and wanting Prussia to hurry up and continue doing his job already.  
"You're back earlier than I expected," Austria commented softly when Germany sat down opposite of him. He put his book down and stared at his younger cousin with curiosity shimmering in his eyes. "Did something happen?"  
Germany shook his head. "Other than the _Luftwaffe_ fucking up in Britain by accidentally dropping a bomb in London, no," he answered flatly. Maybe it was because he didn't know anything about flying indeed, but he didn't understand how anyone could accidentally drop a bomb in the wrong place.  
Austria snorted. "Well, that sounds reassuring." He shook his head then, muttering under his breath, too soft for Germany to hear although he could guess that it was along the same lines as his own thoughts about this potential mess.  
Suddenly Prussia made a noise other than snoring, and both German nations looked at him at this. The Prussian grunted softly as he appeared to try and stretch out his arm, but that movement was slow and awkward, him being asleep and all. He also mumbled a few almost incomprehensible things, and Germany had to focus quite hard to understand some of it. "B…" was the first sound that he could really make out, as his brother reached to grab something in his dreaming. "Br… Brand…"  
Germany watched for a moment, not sure what to think of this. He'd hardly ever witnessed his brother dream about his beloved Brandenburg quite like this, and he still hadn't figured out what to do, or even whether to do anything in the first place.  
Austria couldn't stand to watch this for more than a few seconds, though, and the older nation got to his feet with a sigh. Quietly he made his way over to the living room area, where he got a cushion from the armchair that stood there, an old and worn piece of furniture that really needed replacing, were it not that Germany found it strangely comfortable despite it being so worn and damaged.  
With the cushion in hand, Austria silently made his way over to Prussia next, waited for the albino to reach out again, then gently pressed that cushion into his outstretched hand. Prussia grabbed it awkwardly, nearly dropping it at first, then placed it on the couch right next to him, all the while still fast asleep. Austria smiled warmly as he watched the albino put an arm around that cushion and pulling it close to himself, quiet now. Even from a distance, Germany could see his brother smiling a bit now. He also noticed a faint shimmer, but didn't know for sure what that was until Austria bent down towards Prussia and very gently brushed his thumb over the albino's cheek, just under his eye. A tear.  
"It's all right, Prussia," he said in a whisper. "She's still here, I'm sure she is. Hold her while you can, all right?"  
Prussia only held the cushion even tighter now, and Germany began to understand. Of course, in his dream, that cushion might as well be Brandenburg. How thoughtful of Austria to actually give him something to hold on to; that might make the dream feel a little more real to him.  
Austria watched for a moment longer, but Prussia didn't twitch anymore, and he went back to where he'd sat at the table with one last glance and a smile in Prussia's direction. Germany watched his brother for a second or so also, then turned to look at his cousin instead. "I'll have to remember that one," he told the older nation in a soft voice. "I certainly would never have thought of it myself, but it does seem to work." He sighed softly, remembering other times when similar things like these had happened. Sometimes Prussia woke up normally, other times he would wake from dreams like this one and be miserable for some time.  
Austria shrugged. "Well, anything is better than having to deal with Prussia when he's in a foul mood, so I'm happy to help," he stated flatly, picking up his book again. He sounded indifferent, but Germany was pretty sure the older nation had done this only to make Prussia feel better, not to make his own life easier once the albino would wake up again.  
The young nation was about to say something else, but suddenly an alarm sounded outside, roaring through the streets, and both Germany and Austria nearly jumped at this, startled. Germany recognised the alarm as being the one that would be used if the city was attacked, so why would it be ringing now?  
It took him a few seconds to realise that the city _was_ under attack. He jumped to his feet, just as Prussia drowsily blinked open his eyes, woken by the alarm, and slurred a question what was going on. A few heartbeats later, when Austria had gotten up again also, the albino sat up quickly, eyes wide as he, too, realised what was going on. "A-an attack?" he spluttered, the first one to speak now. "The _hell?_ What a sneaky trick - _we're_ not bombing cities, what gives them the right?!"  
Germany shook his head quickly, gritting his teeth. Of all the possible consequences of the mistake their _Luftwaffe_ had made above London, _this_ hadn't been on the list he'd come up with so far. "We did provoke this, Gilbert," he tried to explain quickly, his heart racing with panic. "The day before yesterday, the _Luftwaffe-_ "  
There was a loud explosion in the distance, but close enough that Germany could feel the ground shake. He hardly noticed that, however. Simultaneously with the explosion, a sharp pain struck his chest, cutting off his words as it robbed him of his breath. He saw Austria take a step toward him to help, but the annexed country backed off when Prussia raced over to Germany's side. "Shit, _shit!_ " the free state cursed to no one in particular. "Again? Dammit, what did we do to deserve this _now?_ " He grabbed his little brother by the shoulders, inspecting him quickly, then pulled him into a quick, tight hug. Germany could feel the Prussian tremble lightly, and he wondered whether that was out of anger, fear or both.  
"It was the French last time, right?" Austria said quickly, coming to stand beside his cousins. "Considering what you told me, Ludwig, it's the British now. I'm guessing they've sent more than just one plane, unlike those stupid frogs."  
Germany nodded, able to breathe again now that the pain in his chest had already faded. Again, Prussia demanded to know why the British thought they had the right to bomb a densely populated city such as Berlin, when the Germans had done no such thing and had thus done nothing to provoke this attack. Annoyed with his brother despite knowing that he couldn't know what had happened yet, Germany pushed him away angrily. "We _did_ provoke this, Gilbert!" he snapped, feeling a twinge of regret when Prussia flinched at his angry reaction. "We dropped a bomb on London two days ago -how were they to know that it was a mistake? You don't expect Hitler to send a telegram saying 'oh, sorry, that bomb on your capital was an accident', do you?"  
Prussia was about to answer, but right at that moment another bomb was dropped on Berlin, and Germany flinched. It wasn't the first time he felt the pain of having his capital attacked, but this certainly hurt more than the French attack earlier this year had done. Still, the pain faded quickly like it had done earlier, and he had recovered himself within seconds. The telephone rang then, and Prussia scowled as he stomped over to it quickly. "Only one person who would call at a time like this," he muttered under his breath before picking up. The shadow that seemed to pass over his expression when he placed the horn to his ear convinced Germany of who it was, also.  
He could hear Hitler's angry voice even from where he stood, and Prussia immediately held the phone further from his ears. "I want all of you in my office right this instant, you hear me?!" the human roared, and Germany wondered briefly when he had last heard the man so angry.  
Prussia's eyes flared with rage, and Germany felt his heart skip a beat when the nation yelled back almost as loudly as their leader had done. "We're not going _anywhere_ except maybe a shelter until it's safe, do you understand that, you utter _imbecile_!" The albino didn't flinch when he was yelled at again, totally enraged now, and he interrupted Hitler loudly. "We'll be there as soon as we can, dammit, but if you expect us to take a nice fucking stroll outside when it's raining explosives, then you're the biggest stupid _numbskull_ I've ever met!" Without another word, he slammed the phone down, staring at it with rage still burning in his gaze before he turned to look at Germany and Austria, who were both staring wide-eyed and stunned silent.  
" _What?_ " Prussia just snapped, rolling his eyes. "The idiot needs to be told _sometime,_ right? It's not like we can fucking teleport over there!"  
Austria stammered nervously: "I think m-maybe you should go into hiding, after that…"  
Another bomb fell, closer now, and the ground shook beneath their feet. Prussia shook his head, moving over to grab both Germany and Austria by the arm and then pulled them both with him. "We're going to a shelter anyway; I don't like how close this one was, dammit."

* * *

The damage this bombing had left on Berlin was thankfully minor, and by the end of the day, Germany, Prussia and Austria were in Hitler's office as the man had ordered them to do. Commander Göring was there also, along with some others. To Germany's surprise, Prussia hadn't been yelled at yet, or received any other form of punishment. Their leader was too busy blowing up over the attack on Berlin that day to even bother, it seemed.  
"We cannot let this slide!" he declared angrily, his normally cold gaze ablaze as he spoke. "From now on, the _Luftwaffe_ shall target London -other cities, too!"  
Commander Göring didn't say anything yet, and instead Germany stammered a reply to this order. "B-but, sir," he began tentatively, "won't that provoke more attacks like these? I think it would be wiser if we-"  
He wasn't given the chance to finish his sentence. "I don't care what a child thinks!" Hitler snapped, glaring at his nation for a moment. "Be quiet, Germany, and don't bother us right now."  
Taken aback by this, Germany stared wide-eyed at his leader. "Then what am I even here for?" he demanded indignantly, feeling anger bubble up inside of him. What nonsense was this? He had _always_ been a part of the discussions -well, since the war had started, anyway- and even though he had hardly ever been listened to in the sense that his advice was put to use, he had always at least been allowed to speak.  
Hitler narrowed his eyes at this question from his nation. "You're here to observe, Germany, and you're here to _learn_. It was an act of foolishness that you were given such a high position in the Great War; you're a child who has yet to learn the basics of warfare. _That_ is why I didn't want to involve you in the first place, yet you insisted to be a part of it, and I trusted you to make an effort to do well. Don't prove me wrong now."  
Germany opened his mouth to make an angry retort -despite knowing better than to do so, he couldn't control himself right now- but again he was cut off, this time before he could even speak. "You'll be quiet now if you know what's good for you!" his leader said sharply. "You have much to learn from your brother, young man, but his disobedience and lack of discipline aren't among that. Take his behaviour as an example, not to follow, but to avoid copying. Now keep your mouth shut!"  
Reluctantly, Germany listened and remained quiet for the remainder of the meeting. It ended with Hitler once again getting what he had demanded, and the _Luftwaffe_ would soon start attacking London instead of their earlier targets. Unfortunately, Hitler hadn't forgotten Prussia's behaviour of that afternoon quite yet, but thankfully the albino got away with a thorough scolding and the order that, fit and rested or not, he would be expected back at work by the start of September, which was only days away now. He was also given a warning that he had to tread carefully now; if he made another slip-up like that afternoon in terms of obedience and respect, the measures taken would be more severe by far.  
Lastly, before the nations were allowed to leave, Austria received some mild praise for how well he had done his work so far. Austria had said nothing in response, his gaze fixed on the floor and unreadable; Germany had only been able to tell that, whatever he had been feeling at that moment, it hadn't been anything good.

Once back home, the nations were happy to find that there had been little damage; the vibrations from the bombings had shattered one window in the kitchen, but it was a small window anyway and easily repaired for the time being -meaning that they had stuck cardboard on the inside and the outside of the window frame until they could place new glass in it.  
Austria went to bed almost the moment they got home, stating that he wanted to be alone for now. At least that was possible now -unlike Italy all those years ago, Austria had his own room now that he was a permanent resident, a rather small space actually, which used to be an office. Austria didn't mind the lack of space much, as there was a bed and a wardrobe and -most importantly, according to him- there was a lock on the door.  
Germany wished him good night, but stared after him as he went away, only more confused now. He sighed when he heard his cousin's footsteps fade on the stairs. "Whatever it is that he has to do," he mumbled, half to himself, "it certainly isn't doing him any good."  
"Wouldn't do me any good to be surrounded by that all the time," Prussia commented calmly as he sipped his tea. For once he had been wise enough to not drink coffee in the evening, which would keep him awake for an hour or so longer than any other drink would.  
His words piqued Germany's interest, although most of all it confused him even more yet, and he turned to look at his brother curiously. "You know what this work is that he's been doing, then?" he asked, completely astonished by it. Austria didn't seem willing to talk about it with _anyone_ , and although their relationship was pretty good these days, Germany found it unlikely that he would talk about things with Prussia that he wouldn't discuss with Germany also.  
It didn't come as a surprise anymore when Prussia nodded. He met his younger brother's gaze, his eyes clouded with a mixture of emotions. Pity was among them, along with disgust and worry. "He's working at the camps, Ludwig," he explained in a hushed voice, as if he feared Austria might hear him, sighing as he said this. "The concentration camps are _Hell._ The prisoners are forced to work -hard labour- and are barely taken care off. I heard that those who cannot work -young children or the elderly, the sick or the handicapped, you name it- well… They're useless to them, see…. So…"  
Germany shook his head, stopping Prussia before he could reluctantly finish that sentence. "I think I get it," he said with a shudder. He'd feared as much, with the information he already had on the subject. He'd known about the forced labour, and he had guessed that the people there were starved or being worked half to death -if not all the way to death, that is. He had wondered once or twice what happened with those who wouldn't be able to work like that, but he had never wanted to give it much thought. He didn't want to think about it now, either. "What does he have to do there, then? Do you know?" he asked, just to not have to talk about the fates of all those poor people.  
Prussia shrugged. "Not exactly, but I think it had something to do with inspection. If he's inspecting the premises, the prisoners or the guards, I don't know, but it does explain why he travels around so much instead of working at just one camp and staying there." He sighed and shook his head. "Whatever it is, Ludwig, I don't envy him one second. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had to see all that and not do a thing to stop it, and I'm capable of a lot more cruelty than he is, I'll admit."  
Germany nodded, understanding completely. He would feel sick non-stop if he had to be there, let alone work in such a place, he had no doubt. That, and he'd never have a peaceful night in his life again. He already struggled with all the cruelties he knew happened behind his back.  
Still, he still had one question left unanswered. "How do you know this, brother?" he asked, a sharper edge to his voice now. Why would Prussia have this knowledge and not him?  
Again, Prussia shrugged. "Where I heard is not important," he said dismissively, looking away and drinking his tea again, making it clear he didn't want to talk about this anymore.  
But Germany was only just starting to get some answers! "But, Gilbert-!"  
" _Not. Important._ " Prussia sent him an exasperated look for a moment. "The important thing is that I know, that he doesn't know I do, and that he doesn't need to know, either!" He was quiet after that, only to say after a minute or so: "Just don't mention it to him, all right? He'll talk when he's ready."  
With a sigh, Germany mumbled that he wouldn't say a thing to Austria, and apologised for pressing Prussia for information, also. He felt a similar anger as earlier that evening, though, when they had been in Hitler's office. _Keeping secrets from me again, then, are you?_ he accused his elder brother in silence. _Just like before. How many secrets do you even have?_  
Much as he loved his brother, Prussia's secrecy about certain topics was really starting to piss him off. Were there things he was ashamed of? Things that hurt too much to talk about? What reason did he have to never mention any of it to Germany? It had been in a panic attack that he'd finally told his little brother that he was responsible for Saxony's untimely death. Germany knew that there were many more things that Prussia was keeping from him, and he just hoped his brother would one day start talking without a panic attack or something similar bringing him to blurt it out on a whim.  
 _That I'm young, doesn't mean I'm an ignorant child,_ Germany thought with a soft huff. But he pushed those thoughts away then. If Prussia had to leave again in a few days, Germany didn't want to end up fighting with his brother in the short time that they still had together before they would be separated yet again.

* * *

There had been plans to invade Britain for some time now, something called Operation Sea Lion, but that was being postponed again and again because the German _Luftwaffe_ could not defeat the RAF -or at least weaken them enough to allow for the invasion to proceed smoothly. However, hope was on the horizon for the German forces: the Italians had established their own air force, and once they were ready, they would join the Battle of Britain.  
They Italian army was also working on invading Egypt, and Germany was keeping track of that with a strangely hopeful curiosity. Soon they would sign a formal alliance with the Italians, and maybe they could be of actual help to them. In the Great War, they had given the Austrian and Hungarian troops some trouble. Although he hadn't followed that too closely, focusing mainly on his own army and their battles, he did have to admit that not everything he had heard about the Italian army had been good. Prussia for one, fond as he was of Romano and especially Veneziano, had talked quite lowly of their army. But then, Prussia spoke lowly of many armies. None compared to the Prussian troops, he always said, especially when they had been led by Frederick the Great. Clearly writing down music compositions in his notebook hadn't been the only thing the old king had done during his lessons when he was still a young prince. While history books supported Prussia's proud claims, of course, Germany couldn't dismiss the fact that his elder brother might very well be biased, even more so because of how much he loved Old Fritz. Maybe the Italian army wasn't as bad as the albino claimed them to be, after all. He could only wait and see, and for now he clung to the hope that they were the allies they needed.  
Still, eventually the planned invasion of the United Kingdom was put off indefinitely. The RAF was winning the battle to defend their homeland, and as the British continued to bomb Berlin as the Germans bombed London, amongst other cities, Germany began to think he wouldn't at all mind it if they would give up the fight to invade Britain at all. This thought, an indifferent observation at first, actually turned into a strong desire when, on the 24th of September, there was a large-scale bombing on Berlin; unlike with the first bombing, this was one that he still felt sore of hours after the last bomb had fallen. The young nation forced himself to recover from that attack as quickly as he could, because days later, they would have that official signing of their alliance with not only Italy, but also Japan right there in Berlin.  
Both Prussia and Germany arrived back in Berlin on the 25th, two days before their new allies would be there to make their alliance official. Austria was in Poland, overseeing the concentration camps again. Germany hoped he wouldn't struggle with it too much, even though he knew that those places were only going to get worse yet. Measures against Jews, amongst others, were getting more radical with the month. Soon the ghettos would be full and they would be locked up in even greater numbers, he knew it as surely as that the sun would rise in the morning.  
Talking to his brother brought Germany some good news, though; a high-ranking lieutenant had managed to pull some strings with the higher-ups, all the way until his request had reached Hitler himself who, likely because one or several of his high-ranking officers insisted, complied. This request had been that Prussia's main role would not be on the battlefield, where clearly he was past his prime (that part had slightly offended the nation, naturally, despite how grateful he was for the work this man had done for him). Instead the free state should probably focus on two other talents of his: strategy-making and healing where necessary.  
Prussia spoke especially fondly of his work as a medic, which surprised Germany. His brother had told him about that work before and had always looked proud of being able to help people, he had even taught Germany a few things -how to disinfect wounds and how to set broken bones, even how to perform CPR- but never had he looked quite like he did now when he'd talked about healing. The look in Prussia's eyes when he told his little brother of the people he'd helped so far was almost… _passionate._

"Oh, I do still love fighting, I think I always will," Prussia said on the afternoon of the 26th, when he and Germany had a quick lunchbreak from preparations for the alliance together. "I love the thrill, the adrenaline rush it gives you and the _victory_. Winning feels _fantastic_ , Ludwig -that's when all the pain you've suffered up until then suddenly gets a purpose, you'll suddenly realise what it was all for. It's just…" He sighed for a moment, though there was no regret in his gaze as he spoke again. "Fighting isn't as it used to be. War is not how I remember it. Hand-to-hand combat is exciting, and if I have to be really honest with you, sword fighting was my first love. Firearms, however, are something I've never really been fond of. I hate them, I hate bombs, I hate tanks and don't get me started on chemical weapons. The Great War has thoroughly put me off those. I know this may sound strange, but I think one of the worst parts of warfare now is how you often don't get to see the faces of those you kill out there…"  
Germany gave him a strange look at this comment. Why would _that_ , of all things, be the worst part? The way he saw it, it was the best part rather than the worst. Prussia saw his gaze and grinned sheepishly. "Told you it would sound weird," he said with a nervous chuckle. "The thing is, Ludwig, when you see their faces, they will haunt you for some time. It's not exactly beneficial for your sleep, but it feels somehow… respectful. To remember those who've died by your hand. With long-range weapons, that is made impossible -if you don't see any faces, how can you remember them, pay your respects, in whatever way?" Germany nodded, seeing sense in his brothers words now. He'd never thought about it like that. In the heat of battle, more often than not it was difficult to feel remorse. Remembering only figures in the distance didn't make that any easier, but faces… faces brought regret.  
Prussia, in the meantime, had kept on talking; the words seemed to tumble from his lips in an unstoppable tide that afternoon. "War and battle have lost their appeal to me a bit, but _healing…!_ The first time I _saved_ a life instead of _ending_ one, Ludwig, that was the best feeling in the world. For almost 200 years now I've known this for a fact, and the more I worked in the infirmary during or after battles, the more I began to realise it, but healing truly brings much more _lasting_ satisfaction than fighting does. It doesn't quite have that thrill -though it is by no means dull- but once the adrenaline fades, so does the fun in fighting battles. The joy of healing, on the other hand, comes _after_ finishing the work, not during it, and it is actually so much more intense." His red eyes were shining like polished rubies when he spoke, and for once a smile seemed to be stuck on Prussia's face, unable to fade even in the slightest. "Especially in this war, now that we're being made to fight for a cause I do not believe in, with weapons that send my skin crawling and I can't even fight like I used to, doing _this_ feels great. Through all the horrible things we're being forced to do now, at least I get the chance to do something _good_ now, something which doesn't make me feel like a monster, something that I _want_ to do."  
Germany kept on listening, wishing that he could do something that he could believe in, also. He still couldn't bring himself to disagree with _all_ of Hitler's ideas -not the core of them, anyway- but the radical way in which the man went about all this disgusted him. Sometimes he could now bring himself to feel indifferent over things, but most of the time he felt horrible when he was 'at work', as he loathed yet preferred to call it.  
In the end Prussia talked so much that Germany almost got tired of it, but he didn't do anything to stop him, and honestly, he could never really grow tired of seeing his brother so happy. Germany knew that Prussia had felt like he had no real purpose for a long time now, more than ever since he'd had his stroke almost a decade ago. Now the free state seemed to really have something that he thought was worth living for again. Well, of course, it was clear that Germany was Prussia's reason to live, and that was good and all, but the young nation was glad he had found another one.  
That afternoon was one of the best he'd had in a long time.

* * *

On the 27th, shortly after the Tripartite Pact had been signed, there was a small celebration among the nations. Prussia had decided to be on his own for a moment, watching from a little distance as his brother went about socialising with their new allies. A glass of wine in his hand, the Prussian smiled warmly as his little brother seemed to really get along well with Italy Veneziano and Japan especially, and even Romano seemed to almost enjoy himself there. He cursed at Germany and called him names, but he did that with everyone. The moment a nickname like 'Potato Bastard' started to sound almost endearing was the moment Romano had given his proverbial seal of approval to someone.  
Japan seemed a little uncomfortable around both Italians, which didn't surprise Prussia: Romano was too outspoken and straight-forward for Japan, clearly, and too rude also, while Veneziano was his usual bubbly and cheerful self rather than the stressed-out, moody version of him that he had been last time they'd met. Seeing that also cheered Prussia up a bit, even though the little Italian was obviously too intense for Japan. It was good to know that the world still had some normalcy hidden somewhere beneath all the chaos, that people could somehow still be happy from time to time and enjoy themselves.  
"So we're the Axis Powers now, eh?" he heard Italy Veneziano say. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"  
"It does," Japan agreed softly with a dip of his head, the tiniest nod Prussia had ever seen.  
Germany then also commented on this, and feeling assured that his brother and allies were too distracted to pay attention to him just now, he turned to look at Holy Rome standing by his side. "It's good that he's forming relationships with other nations, isn't it?" Prussia said warmly. "I love him more than anything, but it was about time that he started connecting with others, too, not just me and the rest of our surviving family members -before you say anything, yes, I do believe that Hungary is by now part of our family. To Ludwig, at least."  
Holy Rome nodded, smiling also as he looked at the young nation who looked so much like him. "It's part of growing up," he commented. Something then flashed in his eyes, washing away his smile a little bit. "It'll also be good for him to have as many people as possible that he can rely on and talk to by the time you-"  
Prussia interrupted him before he could say that dreaded last part of the sentence. "I know," he said softly, feeling a twinge of grief and also fear as he was reminded that his life wouldn't be as eternal as he had once foolishly believed. "He will still have plenty of time to gather a circle of friends around him before that time comes, though, if I get any say in it."  
Holy Rome sighed softly, looking at Prussia with sympathy shimmering in his pale blue eyes. "Are you afraid of death?" he asked, his voice nearly a whisper.  
Prussia shook his head. "Not death," he answered just as softly as Holy Rome had spoken; it would have been relatively all right if his allies and Germany could have heard him before, but he really didn't want them to hear any of this. "It's _dying_ I'm afraid of. Not knowing when and especially not knowing _how_ -what if my death will be painful? Killed in battle, or some sort of accident, or sickness… I honest to God wouldn't rule out skin cancer as a possible killer for me."  
"Don't think about that," Holy Rome told him softly, smiling as though he was trying to comfort his little brother. "You'll only make yourself scared if you think about that. None of us died in a way we had ever expected -of all things, I didn't think some disease would kill me in the end, but then came the tuberculosis once I wasn't a nation anymore. All the others hadn't thought that, if they would ever die, they would-" He stopped himself abruptly, guilt flashing in his eyes as though he'd just broken a rule of some sort.  
Prussia narrowed his eyes at this, but since Holy Rome hadn't been willing to finish that sentence just now, he knew that he wouldn't get answers if he nagged him for it, either. Stubbornness ran strongly in their family. Instead he sighed a little, looking at his little brother again. "Well, and then there's Ludwig," he mumbled. "I don't want to leave him… Not ever, really, but especially not yet, while he's so young and still so dependent in many ways, no matter what he might say to prove me wrong on that one." He cracked a tiny smile then, much to even his own surprise. "Death itself, however… Once the dying is over and done with and you reach the afterlife, is what I mean… That sometimes seems almost appealing to me these days." He saw Holy Rome blink in surprise at this, and Prussia turned back to look at him, a warm smile back on his face as he thought about what afterlife would be like. "I know that I will still be with Ludwig, even if he won't always know it, and honestly… I've just got way too many people that I want to finally be able to hold in my arms again on the other side to _not_ see the bright side of death. I love how I can finally see you guys again and talk to you, but it's sometimes just not enough, you know?" Maybe he was being greedy, but where he had once thought that he would be so much happier if only he could see the faces of all the dear friends and family members he'd lost, now he knew that even that joy was almost taken for granted again once he'd got used to it. "Strangely, it's the little things that I miss most," he went on. "How Hesse would sometimes ruffle up my hair -even though I used to hate it when he did that- or Württemberg accidentally bumping into me if we walked together, or Hanover poking me to get my attention if he had something to talk about. It's been too long since I've felt your hands, Holy Rome… And Brandenburg… Oh, if only I could hold her or even kiss her, even if only once…!" His entire body felt warm with joy at the mere idea. Then he took a deep breath to calm himself and sighed even more deeply. "I've come to totally accept the knowledge that, someday in the maybe-not-so-distant future, I'll… I'll die. There's even things that I'm really looking forward to and sometimes I almost can't wait to die, strange as that may sound. But…" The Prussian looked back at Germany again. He knew with all his heart that, even if he sometimes stated otherwise out of defiance or perhaps even some sort of teenage rebellion, his little brother still needed him. That to him was far more important than any longing he could ever feel for any of their deceased family members. Prussia _wanted_ them, he wanted them so badly it hurt, but Germany _needed_ his big brother still, and 'need' far outweighed 'want'.  
As he continued watching his precious little brother talk to their new allies, already looking as if he'd truly forged new friendships with those three nations, love for the young nation flooded Prussia's heart, and for just a moment, he believed he couldn't be any happier than he was now.  
"…I've got far too much to stay alive for, for a while yet."

* * *

 **So you guys were right about Austria working in the camps! He's overseeing things now, making sure that everything goes 'smoothly', so to say... His job will be about a lot more in the near future, though... Poor thing.**

 **Also, I'll apologise for a small historical inconsistency: I've read recently that the concentration camps, in this point in time at least, were mostly used to imprison political enemies. The other prisoners came later, from 1941 onward. It's not a very big mistake, as it's not a major plot point in here, but I still wanted to mention it -yes, I'm aware of the mistake I made.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Okay, so... personally I'm not too sure about this chapter ^~^'**

 **I've been busy this week, it's my last week of exams before the Nationwide exams later this year, so yeah... Lots of studying. Speaking French for roughly 15 minutes about randomly picked topics without the use of _any_ keywords, for example... _Sooo easyyyyy_ (*screaming*)  
But hey, I've survived yet again and managed to write another chapter, so it's all good ^w^**

 **Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, followed and/or favourited. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you're awesome!**

 **Now I hope you'll like this chapter~**

* * *

Early in January 1941, Germany was told that he was to be reassigned to the African Front soon. Prussia, in the meantime, was tasked with preparing for Operation Barbarossa, the invasion of the Soviet Union that they had been planning for some time now. From the very beginning, they had known that their mutual neutrality and sometimes cooperation with the Russians would come to an end when the time was right.  
This was one invasion that he had no trouble with. Actually he hadn't minded the invasions of France and Poland, either; the invasion of Poland being the start of a large-scale war was the only thing he didn't like too much about it, really. There were no three people he wanted to hurt more in the world than Poland, France and Russia. If he could get his hands on that blasted communist, he would join the battles again just to be able to defeat Russia. He hadn't forgiven the attempted murder yet. That, and he just wanted to hurt the man. He always had. Something about Russia had always made him want to hurt the younger nation, even though Russia terrified him. Actually, it was probably because Russia was such a creep that he wanted to squash him. After all, plenty of people hated bugs and they squashed bugs all the time.  
It was all just natural instincts.

As all these things were planned and slowly put into motion, Prussia was working over the border, in occupied areas of Poland. Now that the government had begun sending Jews from Austria to the ghettos here in Poland, the German soldiers in these parts had trouble with the locals more frequently than before. That in turn meant they needed some medical attention more often as well. When he had to work on strategies, he was also closer to do so when he was in Poland than anywhere else: Hitler had a base in East Prussia, so whether he was in Berlin or over there, if Prussia was in the middle, he could get to meetings far more quickly than from elsewhere.  
What his leader probably didn't know, and what he also didn't need to know as far as Prussia was concerned, was that the nation didn't just help their own soldiers; sometimes he would approach random people he came across on the streets who looked like they could use a hand. A few soldiers were aware of it, though, and a few other medical staff members as well, so it wasn't completely a secret. However, unlike Hitler might do (although honestly, he might also praise Prussia for it, the nation truly had no idea how the man would react) these people encouraged him to keep doing so, and one or two of his colleagues joined in every once in a while. They said it seemed to give the locals here some trust in them, that maybe not all of the Germans who were in their cities and towns were bad. Prussia didn't see it much, as the Poles still seemed to distrust them all greatly and despise them, and honestly he couldn't blame them. Occupation wasn't exactly nice business, and he had to admit that, considering the history between the Poles and the Germans, mainly Prussians, he could understand their strong feelings of disdain for the German soldiers.  
After all, Prussia shared that same hatred, but for Poland instead. It was all mutual, so it was all good. However, hating Poland didn't mean he hated _all_ Poles, so if someone looked sick or injured, he helped. These were people, just people, not the man who had made his life difficult for centuries. Although… if he was in a particularly foul mood, he honestly couldn't care less. Which was also fine, he told himself. It wasn't part of his job to help out random locals in the towns he went to.

Right now the Prussian was busy disinfecting and stitching a cut on a soldier's cheek, which he'd gotten in a little skirmish with some poor fool who was now to be executed for attacking a soldier with a knife. Potentially also having killed one, actually, as there had been a murder on a German soldier just days ago, and no one had figured out yet who had killed the man. This human could have been the murderer, perhaps, but Prussia wasn't sure about that. Still, it was basically their policy to let no resistance and especially no crime go unpunished, even if the one receiving said punishment hadn't actually committed the crime. They had to pin the blame on someone.  
So yes, the poor unlucky fool, but only in the event that he _hadn't_ killed that soldier a few days earlier. If he had, well, then he would get what he had coming.  
"This will be a scar, won't it?" the soldier sitting in front of Prussia sighed as the nation finished cleaning up the cut.  
Prussia nodded as he quickly grabbed his stitching equipment. "No doubt about it, and I'm afraid it won't be a small one, either." The cut was a deep red, vertical line in the middle of the man's cheek, slowly oozing blood, which dripped from his jaw onto his leg. His uniform was stained with it, though only a little. "Look on the bright side, though," the albino said with a tiny smile as he pierced the soldier's skin with his needle -the human flinched when he did this, having had no painkillers, on his own request. Prussia ignored this and just did his job. "It could have been a lot worse yet. Any higher and that knife would've cut out your eye. The scarring it is likely to leave also won't be too bad."  
The young man snorted a little at this. "Not too bad? It's not a tiny papercut, and it's _in my face._ " He seemed disgusted at the idea, which amused Prussia a little.  
 _Oh, good, we've got a vain one here,_ he said to himself, biting back a few soft chuckles and struggling to keep a straight face. "Well, I know that I am lucky enough not to have any scars in my face, but I have seen my fair share of battles in my life," Prussia replied calmly, though a hint of laughter must have been audible in his voice, because the human's eyes flashed with annoyance for just a moment. Once again, though, Prussia chose to ignore that. He was becoming very good at ignoring people's attitudes lately. "Just hope you won't end up with a body like mine by the end of this war, all right?" Pausing his stitching for a moment, he used one hand to left his trousers a bit, exposing his left leg up to his knee; centuries ago, his leg had nearly been torn up in the Battle of Kolin. Even now, scars criss-crossed his pale skin, leaving his left leg with a mangled look.  
The human soldier took one look at the nation's collection of scars -even though this was really only a small portion of it, a preview one could say- and instantly the young man paled almost fearfully. He looked unsure what to say as he quickly averted his gaze, colour slowly coming back to his face now -and going in overdrive when he turned red seconds later. "Err, well…" he stammered nervously for a moment. "I, err… F-forget I said anything, sir."  
Prussia smiled for a moment, showing that it was all right, although he didn't say a thing as he quickly finished up the stitches. "Now be sure not to move your face too much," he warned the soldier when he put his supplies aside. "Try not to laugh or make any other facial expression that might tear the stitches. You'll feel it when it's safer to move your face some more -the tugging won't be as bad anymore."  
The soldier nodded and thanked him, a lot more solemn suddenly than he had been when he'd first come in, and Prussia felt a twinge of pride that he'd managed to do more than fixing that man's face; there were a few soldiers around who would do well to realise that, whatever happened, there could always be worse.  
Separated from your family for some time? Try losing them forever.  
Got a new scar on your skin? Try having more scar tissue than actual, still untouched skin.  
Things could always be worse, and Prussia was pretty certain that even his life could have been a lot more difficult than it had already been. If he'd never met Holy Rome, Brandenburg or Fritz or all the other people who had pulled him through the ages… Hell, he could even go as superficial as that soldier just now and be grateful that his more-scar-tissue-than-skin was normally covered up almost entirely, just so long as he wore long sleeves and no shorts.  
Right now, he could still be stuck fighting for his maniac leader instead of working on something he _liked_. Things could be a million times worse, even now.

As he was reflecting on this, the Prussian took off his gloves and tossed them aside to be cleaned later, then picked up the needle he'd been using to start cleaning that off already. He wasn't thinking about anything in particular as he did this, or when he put the stitching thread back in a drawer afterward. When he next picked up the little glass bottle with the medicinal alcohol in it, however, his mind started reeling. He'd never really used a lot of chemicals before, but over the past months, he'd become more acquainted with various substances that he could use for healing.  
They could be used for _harming_ just as easily, though.  
The few sedatives he had in his little storage of medicine had various other uses, if one knew what to do with them. Prussia had this natural curiosity that made him read up on all the details of the chemicals he worked with. Side effects of certain medicine could be very interesting. Propofol, for one, was a sedative that could, in some cases, stop an individual's breathing altogether.  
Chloroform, another anaesthetic, was also being used less and less because of the risks it held. Like with many medicine, an overdose was lethal more often than not.  
The things he could do now that he had access to potential weapons that most other nations did not. If he came face-to-face with any of his enemies, such as Poland or Russia in the near future, he could easily make use of all the things he had stored here. Chloroform wasn't too efficient when used on its own, but if he were to mix it with muscle relaxants or hypnotics, it should work a whole lot better already; some pressure points could also induce a temporary paralysis, which would make using chloroform easier as the person wouldn't be able to resist.  
He wouldn't even _need_ to fight them, not much, though for the fun of it he would likely break a bone or two as well - _before_ administering any sedatives, of course.  
After knocking them out, well, he could do literally anything! If he wanted to regain some trust from Hitler, though, he would probably first have to bring them to him and let his leader decide. He might actually do that, if he got the chance. He really didn't like the man, but Hitler was his leader, and there was nothing he could do about it. The best thing he could do now was to avoid hurting innocent civilians and following orders as much as he could without harming any humans who did not deserve it.  
Prussia looked at the shelves with bottles lined up on them, each one filled with a different liquid or pill or powder, each one with so much potential. He chuckled, completely satisfied with his little collection. Looking at it, he felt as if he was looking at both the medical supplies anyone else would see, and his new personal armoury at the same time.  
He really did love his job.

* * *

"You really couldn't send more troops, could you, Potato Head?"  
Germany sighed at this unimpressed comment from Romano, which sounded somewhat like an accusation. "Actually, no," he answered truthfully, not looking at the older nation as he spoke. He'd been growing increasingly tense and frustrated the more of his cities were being bombed. Especially the bombings on Berlin angered the young nation. It was one of the worst things he knew of, to be unable to do anything about such attacks. Comments such as these could really piss him off, when he was already tense because of the bombings. "We're still fighting the United Kingdom, we've got soldiers in all of the territories we've occupied and resistance hasn't died down yet in those areas and we're planning and preparing for future invasions," the young German explained with an edge to his voice. "I do believe we're busy enough already, thank you. No need to make things worse for ourselves than is necessary."  
Romano didn't really seem to buy it yet, or at least, he didn't seem to accept that as an excuse. "Not even for your _allies_?" He huffed, narrowing his eyes indignantly. "Wow, what a great alliance we've got, truly!"  
Germany could just about feel his blood begin to boil at the look Romano gave him. It was as if the Italian was accusing him of being the most untrustworthy, lousy ally they'd ever had, while the German army had been working their asses off for nearly two years already. "Just so that we get this straight, Romano," he said in a tone as sharp as a knife, "we've sent all the forces we can spare to be your backup, and if that number doesn't satisfy your needs, maybe you should consider helping _us_ in _our_ battles some more, too, so that we'll be able to spare more troops in the future!" He gave the smaller nation a hard poke in the chest as he added accusingly: "I haven't read much about your precious _Corpo Aereo Italiano_ being of much use in the Battle of Britain!"  
Romano looked ready to retort to that, but Veneziano then sighed, rather loudly so, without looking at either nation. "Would you two please shut up?" he asked them then, sounding agitated but still somewhat polite at the same time. Somewhat. "I'm trying to read something here."  
Romano sent Germany one last, murderous glare, then walked over to his younger brother and looked over his shoulder to see what the report Veneziano was reading was about. Just then, the younger brother whimpered, and Romano cursed a few seconds later. Germany could pick up just enough of what they were talking about after that to know that it was potentially worrisome. "England and Scotland are here?" he asked, just to be sure, as he approached them calmly.  
Veneziano gave him a surprised look at this, but then a twinkle appeared in his brown eyes. "Look who's learning Italian! Was about time, don't you think?" He grinned as he said this.  
Germany silenced him with an annoyed look, if the older nation had been planning to say anything else on the matter. "Drop it for once, will you?" he muttered with a sigh.  
Romano snorted. "Well, you were wrong, anyway," he said, sounding almost amused by it -which sparked some more anger in Germany yet. "They're not here _yet_ , according to what's written here, but there are some signs that they're likely to be sent to fight alongside their troops here sometime soon."  
Veneziano whimpered again, planting his face on his desk. "I don't like the English…" he whined softly. "England is scary. Scotland is _terrifying_."  
Germany could just barely suppress a fit of laughter at the older nation's words. Those two, scary? In what universe? England tried to be intimidating, but he failed more often than not. Even as a child, Germany hadn't found him 'scary' in any way, and now that he was older, he knew that England didn't exactly have a strong build and Prussia had told him the man wasn't quite as skilled in battle as them, either. Then again, neither of the Italian brothers looked all too strong, so they would likely have more difficulty in battle against England.  
Scotland could _look_ intimidating, all right, but he was too kind and gentle, he'd learnt over the years, to be considered scary. The man was like a bear: grizzly on the outside, teddy on the inside.  
Were these two just cowards, or was there something about the British Isles that he didn't know of? While it was true of course that there were many things he didn't know about the British Isles, he doubted there was much to be afraid of about them. There was also another thing he found strange. "England is… He's your brother, isn't he?" he asked, wondering how anyone could be scared of their siblings.  
To his surprise, Romano and Veneziano answered in unison. "No."  
No? Had Prussia been wrong, then? But the Italian brothers were related to France and Spain also, and Germany did recall Wales mentioning how France and England were half-brothers, so… _No?  
_ The two older nations must have noticed his complete confusion, and Romano sighed. "Look, if you want to talk about biological stuff, then yeah, I suppose he's our half-brother. In any other way, shape or form, we're not related." Veneziano nodded and agreed to this immediately.  
Germany, his momentary confusion gone now, blinked at them with a blank stare. "So, basically," he replied flatly, "you're denying that you're related." They really were such idiots.  
"We don't want to be," Veneziano answered matter-of-factly, as if that was the most normal thing in the world. "Why should we be? We're nothing alike. Also, he dislikes us as much as we do him, so that's all fine." He shuddered then. "It also doesn't help that he's creepy…"  
Maybe he should just let this go. It didn't even matter why both Italians would be scared of the British Isles, and he clearly wouldn't get any real answers out of them about it. It was always bad news to have fellow nations on the battlefield, as it completely eradicated the concept of immortality for them, but neither England nor Scotland was here yet. There was nothing to worry about as of yet.  
Germany sighed and shook his head, walking away to sit down at another desk. Silently he grabbed paper and a pen. He bit back an agitated retort when Veneziano asked him, actually in a rather kind tone of voice, what he was doing, then answered tensely that he was going to write to Prussia.

 _Dear brother,_

 _Working with the Italians is perhaps the most difficult task I've been given so far. Romano constantly gets on my nerves and he appears to do so on purpose more often than not. Veneziano at least tries to be of use, but it's clear to me that he is a man of culture, not warfare. He knows what he's doing, that much needs to be said. He just doesn't know that was he's doing is ridiculous.  
I hope my time on the African Front will be brief. I certainly do not wish to spend the summer here: I do not fare any better in warm weather than you do, after all, although I do of course have a better tolerance for sunlight.  
I do hope your work in Poland is any easier than this. Now don't take this the wrong way, but I also hope you've been behaving yourself a little. That you haven't been provoking any fights with the locals or anything of the sort, I mean. To be frank, that seems like just the thing for you to do.  
Do you know where Austria is at the moment? I would also like to write to him sometime, even if just to serve as some distraction from his work, but I have no address.  
Either way, I'm still glad that you've got work that you can enjoy now. Last I heard, Hitler seemed to approve of your position completely now; it appears he's realised that fighting isn't your only skill at last. Maybe if you keep this up and follow his orders to the dot again from now on, he might forgive that little incident last year, and you'll be in the clear again. I do, admittedly, still worry about that from time to time. You really crossed a line that day, brother, and while our leader may be many, many things, quick to forgive is unfortunately not among those._

 _Take care, brother. Hopefully we'll soon be allowed to go home again, preferably at the same time of course, so that we'll be able to spend at least some time together. If we're lucky, Austria can join us then. Perhaps, if we get such a chance, we could ask Hungary if she would have us over for a week or so: personally I don't feel too much for being in Berlin for longer periods of time, what with all these air raids going on._

 _Please do write back. My current address is on the back of this letter, and my next scheduled address is underneath it; I shall be heading there in two weeks' time. Your letter should find its way to me one way or another, I'm sure._

 _Dein Ludwig_

* * *

Prussia really did love it whenever he got a chance to put to practice what he'd been imagining for a long time. So when he got word from some soldiers, after a couple of months of working in Poland, that they believed they had located the nation himself, Prussia's heart began racing with excitement. He waited for orders to apprehend Poland, during which time he made preparations, and the very moment he got word from Hitler, he went to the town the soldiers had told him to look.  
It was a small town close to Warsaw, and Prussia decided to go there dressed as a civilian. He hadn't been to Warsaw yet since the initial invasion, and he wasn't entirely sure how much resistance he could expect if he walked around in his uniform. He also wouldn't stand out too much this way: his albinism had always made it difficult to go anywhere without drawing attention, but he guessed albinism combined with a military uniform would be even worse right now.  
He had three syringes under his coat, although he likely would only need to use one; he had filled them with a little cocktail of chemicals which should do the job of making Poland easier to apprehend in under two minutes. He had tested it on himself first, just to make sure it wasn't lethal, and although any self-inflicted damage on a nation's body would still heal more quickly than if another nation did it, his own reaction to this sedative-cocktail had assured him that he wouldn't end up killing his enemy today. Provided Poland wasn't allergic to any of these things or had any condition that would worsen the effects, trigger side-effects or anything of the sort. But, he had decided, the odds of Poland, or any nation, having anything of the sort were next to nothing. This would be totally fine. A little unethical, perhaps, but no worse than Prussia had already done before in his long life riddled with sin. Whether everyone had been right about him in the past, or he'd just been made into that due to circumstances, he didn't know, but Prussia could not deny that all the people who had ever declared him violent, twisted, a maniac or even evil… had a point.  
Maybe 'evil' was a bit too much, but Prussia was well aware of the fact that he had a sadistic side to him. Honestly, after trying to kill Poland twice, shattering both of Austria's legs, murdering Bavaria, beating up Russia several times and plenty more of such things, well… How could he deny it? He generally wouldn't hurt anyone, but he had his moments when he _loved_ hurting certain people.  
This time he would be merciful, though. Sedatives didn't hurt, after all. The needle might.

Once in town, it didn't take Prussia long to locate Poland, and he was happy to find that it was him indeed. Poland wasn't so happy about it, however.  
The moment he saw Prussia, the older nation cursed loudly, dashing off into what was apparently his house now. Prussia sighed and went after him calmly; he knew Poland well enough to know that he wouldn't flee anymore now. He would fight, he would do whatever he could to defeat Prussia, even if it was clear from the start that his efforts would be futile. Mere seconds later, the Prussian faced Poland again, in the hallway, Poland tightly gripping what was quite possibly the largest knife he had available; it bordered on being a dagger, Prussia thought with a twinge of fear, just a tiny spark of worry. It would be more difficult to dodge than a butter knife would be for sure, in a space as narrow as this hallway.  
Poland's green eyes were alight with rage and fear. "Why am I not surprised?" he sneered, his voice quivering a little as he spoke. "Yet, I'd hoped you wouldn't be around anymore after that invasion! Foolish mistake on my part, I'll admit."  
Prussia shrugged and sighed. "Well, who would've thought? We agree on something." He calmly opened the buttons on his coat to be able to reach his syringes more easily. "I, too, had hoped not to be here anymore, but I was sent back. At least I get a chance to do what I had been ordered to do in '39 already."  
Poland didn't wait any longer. With an angry roar, he suddenly moved to stab Prussia, and the albino could only just dodge his attack. "Careful there!" the younger nation snapped, twisting on one foot and swinging the other through the air to kick Poland, but in this confined space, he had to hold his leg at an awkward angle to even be able to make that kick, and in the end it didn't hit. His blood boiling with frustration, the Prussian jumped back when Poland spun around and made another attempt to stab him. "You shouldn't play with knives, Polly," Prussia taunted him, hoping to provoke an attack that would be less controlled; if he kept on dodging, Poland would get frustrated, which would make him rash. The moment he let his guard down, Prussia could try his little experiment.  
Poland wasn't listening. "Again!" he shrieked at the younger nation as he kept on trying to land a blow on him. "Goddammit, Prussia, _again!_ What reason do you have to make my life so difficult all the time?!" He screamed in frustration as the knife missed Prussia's face by a hair. "Do you realise what I gave you back then?" the blond nation went on, almost desperately, hatred etched into every one of his features and dripping from each word. "I gave you a _home_ , I gave you _guidance_ -when we first met, you hardly knew what being a nation was about, dammit! You had no clue what you really were, you had no direction in your life, _and I gave you that direction!_ "  
Prussia tried to block out the voice in the back of his head, trying to tell him that Poland was making sense. He wasn't. A home? Guidance? He'd only ever given Prussia a prison to live in, an illusion of freedom. For a long time, he hadn't been allowed to leave his own land without Poland's consent. Negotiations with other countries had been mediated by Poland. Maybe it wasn't so obvious in day to day life, but whenever Prussia had stopped to think about it, he'd known that being a fief to another nation was like being their pet. All he had ever wanted to do was to tear off that collar and leave some bite-marks to remember him by.  
"Did I get any thanks?" Poland yelled, stopping his attacks for just a few heartbeats as he said this, and Prussia couldn't bring himself to take this perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't. Poland spat at him. "Of course not -I got _rebellion_ instead! Rebellion, betrayal, an attempted assassination and finally partitioning! _You treacherous little brat!_ " He thrust his knife forward again, and Prussia reacted in a flash.  
Both nations stiffened a heartbeat later. Poland's eyes were wide with shock, confusion and pain as Prussia plunged his syringe into the older nation's neck, injecting the sedatives quickly. Meanwhile, the Free State himself was robbed of his breath as he felt the cold blade of Poland's knife lodged in his left shoulder.  
But Poland soon let go of his knife and stumbled back a step, his hand pressed to his neck, trembling as he stood staring at Prussia almost questioningly. Prussia dropped his syringe instantly, the empty object clattering on the wooden boards under his feet. Clenching his jaws, he pulled the knife out of his shoulder, biting his lip in pain. Joints were among the worst places to get stabbed. He looked up with a glare when he heard Poland's voice.  
The older man was shaking even more violently now, and Prussia grinned a little at the realisation that his little cocktail was working splendidly. "W-what… what was that…?" he choked out almost fearfully. Poland was gingerly rubbing his neck with one hand then looked at his fingertips as if he could find any clues to what Prussia had done that way.  
Prussia shrugged, biting back a gasp of pain as his left shoulder seemed to light up with flames at that motion. "Just some sedatives, is all," he answered, sounding a lot calmer now that he knew the fighting was over. "Take my advice and sit down already, or you'll crash in a few seconds, I'm serious," the Free State added when he saw Poland's knees getting ever more wobbly. A moment later, the blond nation really did collapse, and Prussia sighed. "Told you."  
Poland struggled against the chemicals rushing through his veins, his eyes narrowed in fierce determination and his jaws clenched tightly. He glared up at Prussia, with a look as if he wanted to watch the albino die right then and there, and preferably slowly and painfully. Then he snorted. "Of all the things you've proven yourself to be over the years, Prussia," he sneered, fierce even though his voice was growing weaker along with the rest of his body, "a _coward_ has never been one of them. Now you even back out of fights and resort to dirty tricks? You're pathetic."  
"I'm resourceful," Prussia countered without looking at the man, annoyed that he clung on to his consciousness so well. Oh well, it wouldn't get him anywhere in the end anyway, he was only delaying the inevitable. Meanwhile, Prussia was trying to get a look at the wound in his shoulder. "I had no intention of fighting you, that would be such a bore. Done it a million times already, after all. Trying out new things keeps life interesting."  
"You became weak," was Poland's rebuttal, quick and without hesitation. He lay on his side now, clenching his hands into fists and then relaxing them again. His voice was starting to sound slurred. Still he was defiant to the last second. Defiant and annoying. "Don't think I haven't noticed, that _all of us_ haven't noticed," he taunted Prussia, who turned to look at him again, taken aback by those words. Noticed what? Poland went on feebly. "We're not stupid; bad eyesight is common for albinos, and you don't see as well as you used to -your health is failing you, isn't it?"  
Panic exploded in Prussia's mind like a flame bursting and becoming an all-consuming blaze. Was it that obvious? Was Poland just bluffing, or did the other nations know this, too?  
It got even worse. "It's been nearly a decade, but I do still remember your little incident at the League. 'Exhaustion' my ass…" The nation was struggling more and more to stay conscious, and by now his voice was barely any stronger than a whisper. "If that were true," he forced over his lips, "your brother wouldn't have been in such a panic… You were sick. _Really sick._ And now… now you're too _weak_ to fight me." With what seemed to be his last strength, Poland glared at Prussia, and despite his position there was a victorious light sparking in his eyes. " _That's_ why you resort to dirty tricks. And that will be my consolation."  
Whether he stopped fighting it or the sedatives finally overpowered him, Prussia wasn't sure, but Poland was unconscious just seconds later. Even with his task fulfilled now, minus the taking Poland prisoner part, the Prussian felt sick as he stood there, staring at his lifelong enemy. His words had hit closer to home than Prussia had expected, and for a moment he could only wonder, frantically, if other nations knew as much as Poland did. Why shouldn't they? It was so obvious, they'd have to be blind not to see that Prussia was weakening. Even though he'd put so much effort into hiding it, denying it, fighting it… It was plain to see.  
 _Don't think about that._ He had to patch up his shoulder first. Foolishly, he had decided he wouldn't need any supplies for patching up wounds today, so he didn't have any with him. Hopefully Poland had something useful around here. _You're not weak; you're adapting._ He went into the kitchen, finding his own two feet unsteady as well, although he couldn't tell whether it was the pain, the blood loss or his own panic causing that. _Your body's done the job for centuries, now it's time for your brain to stand in the spotlight._ Rummaging through several drawers, he eventually found a poor excuse of a first-aid kit; at least there were bandages in it. He quickly took off his coat and slid his shirt off his shoulder, exposing a deep wound. He clenched his jaws and went to work. _Your brain's always been the most underappreciated part of you. That's what you've been told, and it's true._ Shit, Poland had really done a number on his shoulder. Damned bastard. _You're a genius. Time to put that intellect to good use. That doesn't make you_ _ **weak**_ _._  
He shuddered for a moment, telling himself that last sentence a few more times before he went back to the hallway. It was difficult without his left arm, but eventually he managed to swing Poland over his right shoulder and carry the smaller man's limp body with one arm.  
On the streets, he was followed by anxious, frightened stares, but no one tried to stop him.

He had finally been able to follow orders to the dot, he'd managed to do his little experiment and he'd come out victorious. Hitler would no doubt be pleased, and that in turn would make life a little safer for Prussia. He would have more freedom if he had his leader's trust. More freedom meant that he could limit the immoral things he had to do. Although if it was Russia or France next, he would be all too glad to repeat today, minus the part where he got stabbed himself.  
He wasn't weak. He was just… resourceful.

* * *

Germany was back in his own land by the start of June that year, in preparation for the planned invasion of the Soviet Union later that month. On the 15th, he was reunited with Prussia once again, who, to the younger nation's surprise, was not planning to stay on the side-lines when the attack on the Soviet Union would start.  
"Russia and I go way back, Ludwig," the Prussian said with a grin and a twinkle in his red eyes. "I couldn't stay behind while our armies fight one another -Russia would be so disappointed!" He laughed for a moment, sounding genuinely happy for some reason.  
Germany wasn't quite so happy about it. "You left the army," he argued, his pale blue gaze fixed on his brother. "You left because you're not supposed to fight anymore. You _know_ that, you said so yourself!" He just didn't understand Prussia's decision at all. He sighed and shook his head. "Don't do it, Gilbert, please. You'll only get in trouble."  
Prussia shrugged and looked away, a stubborn look in his eyes that made Germany lose all hope of convincing him not to fight. "It'll be all right," he protested, although his voice was softer now, more serious. "I've been doing really well, you know? It's not like I've been sitting on my ass all this time -I've had my share of excitement, trust me, and I've had no trouble whatsoever. Well, aside from that little stab in the shoulder, but that's got nothing to do with blood pressure or anything of the likes." He huffed for a moment and shook his head, then turned to look at Germany with his eyes narrowed, an almost angry look in them. It took Germany a moment to realise that the anger wasn't directed at him. "Whatever may have happened in the past, Ludwig, I'm still stronger than you might think! Did you know I haven't been taking my medication since January?"  
" _What?_ " Germany felt as if his own heart could give out at that moment. Was Prussia absolutely _insane?_ Suicidal, maybe? "Brother! Oh, for goodness's sake, you're the most stubborn, _foolish_ person I know, did you know that?!" Maybe he shouldn't be angry, but he didn't very well know what else to feel.  
Prussia didn't like that response much, though. "Oh, yeah? Well, _good_! At least that means _you_ didn't get it from a stranger!" The albino was tense all over by now as he glared at his younger brother, and this time, it was clear that his anger _was_ directed at Germany. "You're such a hypocrite sometimes, you know that? You and I are so alike, yet you have to criticise me over everything I do! I mean, what the _fuck_ were you thinking when you wrote that letter, telling me I had to 'behave myself'?! _What gives you the right?!_ " He grabbed Germany by the collar of his uniform, and Germany tensed in shock -but he didn't fight back. "Have you forgotten which one of us is the elder brother, Ludwig? _You_ do not go around telling _me_ what I can and cannot do, do you understand? And, for your information, in all the time I spent in Poland, I haven't fought a single human! I had a little skirmish with Poland and it ended with me taking him prisoner, _finally_. Meanwhile, you're off in Africa somewhere, picking fights with your own _allies_!"  
Germany struggled to stay calm, but this one he wouldn't let slide. "I'm not the one picking a fight all the time," he protested, fighting back his anger. "You know what Romano is like, brother. He's an annoying asshole who-"  
"Whom you should learn to _ignore_ ," Prussia interrupted him harshly. "A lesson I, too, have learnt the hard way."  
Germany shook his head, getting frustrated with this. They were getting nowhere this way! "All right, I'll try!" he gave in. "Now can we please not fight-?"  
Prussia's grip on him only tightened when he said those words. "Why?" he snapped, his red eyes ablaze with anger. But underneath that anger, Germany now noticed, lay something else, far stronger. The younger nation realised his brother's anger was just a mask to conceal his despair, and he felt a rush of pity for him. Prussia only yelled at him more. "Because I'm too weak to fight, is that it?" Finally there was a quiver of emotion in his voice other than anger, convincing Germany further that the albino nation was just feeling miserable. "I'll have you know, Ludwig, I have always been the strongest nation in Europe! _No one_ could defeat me!"  
When Prussia said this, Germany suddenly made his mind up. In a swift, smooth movement, he slid his right arm over both of Prussia's, right above the elbow pits, and pushed down hard. The sudden motion forced the older nation to let go, but he retaliated immediately, reaching to grab Germany. The younger of the two brothers didn't know what Prussia was trying to do, and he didn't find out; he blocked this attack with ease, to his own surprise, and he realised his brother was letting his emotions get the best of him. He wasn't focussed enough, making rash attacks and paying the price for it.  
Germany pushed Prussia's outstretched arm aside with one hand, twisted so that he stood behind his brother now, then gave him a swift kick against the back of his right knee, which unbalanced him to the point he nearly fell. Then the blond nation only had to give the albino a hard shove against the shoulders, and Prussia was face-down on the floor a second later.  
Taking a deep breath, Germany sighed. "Well, _I_ just defeated you, brother," he told him in as gentle a voice as he could muster. He kept his muscles tensed for a bit longer, half expecting Prussia to jump up and attack him again.  
But the albino lay motionless aside from his hands clenching into fists. He didn't say anything, and he made no attempt to get up. Germany watched him for a moment longer, then after a few seconds heard a soft sniffle. Somehow that didn't come as a surprise to him, and he knelt down with another sigh. He just carefully laid his hand on his brother's shoulder, and Prussia scrambled up a few heartbeats later, until he sat on his knees. The Free State had his jaws clenched tightly and his eyes shut, tiny tears shimmering in their corners. He sniffled again, but made no other noise.  
"It's all right, brother."  
Prussia shook his head. "It's not," he protested feebly. "He was right. _I'm weak._ I have been for years, and I'm not going to get any stronger anymore, either… I'm… not me anymore…" Having said that, the Prussian bit back a sob, only half managing to stay quiet.  
Immediately Germany put his arms around his brother, and Prussia didn't hesitate to return the embrace. Pressing his face into his elder brother's soft, snowy hair, Germany took a deep breath. "You're not weak," he promised him, hoping Prussia would believe him. "You never have been and you never will be. But you've got limits. We all do. You had to learn that this century, you and me both." He hesitated for a moment, adding more softly: "Accepting your own limitations is just another form of strength."  
Prussia let out a shaky sigh. "It's not the same," he protested softly, his voice just a whisper.  
"No," Germany agreed, feeling a rush of grief as he remembered _before._ Before the wars, before the chaos, before Prussia's steady decline. Such a bright, happy time. So far out of reach.  
"But then, life never will be the same anymore for either of us, will it…?"

* * *

 **So, uh, some contrast with the previous chapter: yes, Prussia has accepted the fact that he won't live forever, because being dead will mean being with family. Until then, though, the gradual decline is difficult to deal with.  
Poor thing spent so long trying to prove what he was worth, trying to show the world that he wasn't small, weak and unimportant, that he was strong in every way and had potential to be great...  
And then the German Empire happened, which _should_ have made his position as the most powerful state even more definitive, instead he lost power little by little until... Well, until 1947 happened.  
Actually quite a tragic part of history, thinking about it, even without Hetalia in mind.**

 **Anyway, I do imagine that, although the war overall is something neither Prussia nor Germany agrees with, certain aspects, such as getting a chance to kick some Polish, French or Russian ass... Yeah. Will never say no to that, of course.**

 **As for it not being explained why the Italian brothers are afraid of England (and the rest of the UK), well, that would be because I've got no clue. If it was ever stated why that is, I must have missed it, but I honestly cannot think of anything!**

 **Anyways, that being said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you so much for reading!**


	26. Chapter 26

**You've no idea how good it feels to have finished another chapter...**

 **And who knows, maybe I'll update more regularly again! I had my last big projects, deadlines and tests until the finals in a month, so with studying I can take it relatively easy for the next month... Ah, bless that...  
(It feel so wrong not to write... so, so wrong...)**

 **Anyways, thanks again to everyone who reviewed, favourited and/or followed!**

 **I'm sorry this chapter took me so long, and thanks for your patience!**

 **Now I hope you'll enjoy this chapter~!**

* * *

By December 1941, the United States of America joined the war as well, provoked by a Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour early that month.  
At the time, Prussia, Germany and Austria were at Hungary's, as Germany had mentioned once. They had the entire month off, a rarity, and for each of them this was sort of a reward for their hard work over the past months. In Africa, Germany had been there mainly to oversee the initial campaign and make sure their army would settle in the area with their Italian allies. Prussia had done an excellent job capturing and delivering Poland to Hitler, and the man had even been interested to hear about the Prussian's method of using sedatives. In the latter half of the year, both brothers had done their respective jobs well on the new Eastern Front: Prussia had surpassed expectations when he had managed to fight for a good two months, but by Autumn he'd been forced to slow down once again and had focussed on strategies more than fighting. Germany hadn't had that 'luck', of course, and had to fight whenever he could.  
Austria, naturally, had done his job splendidly in the numerous camps he had been working in. He still refused to talk much, though, and no one bothered him about it anymore this time.

For once, none of the nations had been called back when decisions were being made, which the three were grateful for. Until they heard what that decision was exactly.  
"And so we're at war with America, also," Germany sighed after hearing the news. He was hardly surprised by it, but that didn't mean he liked it much. "Of course, why not?"  
Beside Hungary, Prussia sighed also, clearly not too impressed with the news. "It's the Great War all over again, then, isn't it?" Immediately after saying that, however, he snorted and smirked a little. "What am I saying, of course it's not. We're making progress this time, instead of being at a stalemate. We've occupied France, so that's one enemy less to deal with."  
"We've got more allies this time, too," Austria put in calmly. "Also, after what happened in Pearl Harbour, I do believe the Americans will focus more on fighting Japan than on us. We'll be fine."  
Germany nodded. He wasn't worried much, but he still didn't like it. Austria's reasoning made sense, though, and he was certain that America would be Japan's problem more than theirs. Besides, they were doing much better in this war than they had in the Great War, bringing nations to their knees left and right. They were paying a more hefty price themselves where destruction of cities was concerned, unfortunately, but they were still doing better than the British and the Russians were doing at the moment, not to mention the enemies they had already driven to capitulation.  
Prussia huffed angrily, crossing his arms over his chest. "I regret ever having helped America, though," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else it seemed. "What has he ever done for us in return? Without our help, they would have been using their bayonets to roast food with and their army would have perished from infection and disease before the English could even lift a finger against them! They were living as less than _cattle_ , it was so disgusting." He grimaced at the memories but didn't stop talking. "Then after we helped America win his independence, that was it! When France went mental on the rest of Europe, the Americans didn't do a thing."  
"Considering France also aided America, though," Hungary argued calmly, "and that England was a common enemy of theirs… America would have likely been on France's side if they'd joined in."  
"Even so," Prussia protested, looking really peeved about it. "He's so ungrateful. If we hadn't stepped in to help, they would never have gained independence, mark my words. What do we get in return, decades later? Opposition in wartime. A declaration of war. The level of gratitude _astounds me_ time and time again." Then he sighed and mumbled about how he did have to admit that the Americans sent them money when their economy collapsed after the Great War. Of course, that financial dependence led to even more problems in the end.  
Hungary then leant forward, smiling wide. "Well, let's not worry ourselves right now, shall we?"  
Everyone agreed eagerly. Austria least of all, though, and there was a haunted look in his eyes as he stared at the coffee table. Eventually he let out a deep sigh. "I wish I could work on strategies also," he mumbled. "Or something similar. A job like yours, Prussia," he said, looking at his cousin for a brief moment, his eyes flashing with jealousy. "My work is only getting worse. It doesn't matter for my job how the war is going, and it's…" He placed his face in his hands and gritted his teeth with a short, exasperated growl. "It's _Hell!_ " the Austrian then suddenly exclaimed, his whole body tense.  
Germany was surprised at his sudden outburst, but he was glad at the same time. It was a relief, at least, that his cousin had decided to get this off his chest. It had been about time he did.  
Austria looked totally enraged and in a total panic at the same time. "There are more prisoners coming in all the time! There's so many, in fact, that new camps are being opened up, just so that we can lock up _more_ prisoners yet! I swear, if I have to see _one more_ starved, sick child being worked to death, I'll….!" He trailed off, trembling all over, his eyes ablaze with pure hatred and disgust. But then he folded his hands together and took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. And though he did sound calmer when he spoke again, his words and the obvious strain in his voice told the other nations that he was far from it yet. "Someone please murder Hitler before the end of this year and put an end to this project of his. Not the war as a whole, not necessarily, but this… _this_ … If it doesn't end sometime soon, I will seriously blow a fuse."  
"Hey, think of it this way," Prussia said tentatively, obviously trying to be comforting but unsure how to go about it. "It's always better to work there than to be a prisoner, right?"  
Wrong words. Germany almost flinched when Austria whipped around to stare wide-eyed at his cousin, rage building up in his entire body yet again. "Is that why you condemned Poland to imprisonment there?" he demanded coldly, his voice soft but sharp as a razor.  
Immediately the Prussian paled, every trace of colour in his already snowy skin vanishing in a heartbeat. "I… What…?" he choked out, barely any louder than a whisper and his voice hoarse.  
His reaction only served to make Austria even angrier. "For someone as intelligent as you," he scoffed at his cousin, "you can be _unbelievably_ naïve sometimes. What else did you expect? Aren't concentration camps just the _ideal_ places to lock up enemy nations?" The Austrian got up suddenly and walked over to stand in front of Prussia, stared down at him for a few seconds, then slapped him in the face. "If you've got a brain, why don't you ever seem to _use it_?! If you'd stopped to think about something else than your hatred for Poland, you could've known where he would end up. Would you have done it if you'd known this beforehand?"  
Germany bit his lip, wanting to interrupt this confrontation but knowing better than to interfere now, and watched as his elder brother shook his head slowly. Prussia's red eyes were wide with guilt, shock and utter horror as he gazed up at Austria. "I… N-no, I…" he stammered breathlessly, clueless as to what he should say as much as Germany himself was. "I didn't think… _Shit._ " He sighed deeply and let his head hang, looking absolutely ashamed of what he'd condemned his enemy to. "I'll leave France and Russia alone," the Prussian mumbled, more to himself than to Austria, determination evident in every syllable he spoke. "I won't let them be treated like that also. _No one_ deserves that, not even them." Then the albino nation looked up at Austria again, his gaze pleading as he asked him softly: "If you get a chance to speak to Poland, could you tell him that I didn't mean for this to happen, please? That… that I'm sorry…?"  
Austria sighed and shrugged, walking back to where he'd sat before and flopping down onto the chair with a thud. His entire body was still tense as he spoke. "Well, I could," he answered flatly, "but I won't; Poland would never believe it, and he might actually only end up hating you even more for it. Just promise me, Prussia," he added more sharply, glaring at Prussia yet again. " _Promise me_ that you won't go around apprehending more nations. Not even you can be that cruel, surely. Condemning anyone else to such a fate would be unforgivable."  
Prussia shrunk back where he sat, unwilling to meet Austria's gaze any longer, or anyone else's for that matter. He didn't look like he felt comfortable being around anyone right now, but even so, when Hungary silently placed her hand on his shoulder in a careful comforting gesture, he didn't try to stop her.  
Germany would have preferred to be on his own just then, too, if only to process all the information he'd gotten in the past hours: they were at war with the United States of America now, Austria had finally opened up about his work in the concentration camps and Poland was now a prisoner in one of those. It was such a mess. It had been for years. Yet again.  
How was he supposed to just deal with all this? How was _anyone_ supposed to deal with this?  
Adapt and pretend. Follow orders, ask no questions. Don't think too much. Just do as you're told. Hold your tongue until it's over. Close your eyes until it's over.  
…If only it could be over sometime soon.

* * *

Early in January 1942, the German troops in Russia had been forced back by Soviet forces. The invasion of the Soviet Union, Operation Barbarossa, was now declared a failure. Prussia snorted when he heard this and had muttered something about 'if they had listened to him more'. Germany did not disagree: Prussia was familiar with this climate and the weather their soldiers had to endure on the Eastern Front, more so than Germany was anyway. He'd led his troops through snow and ice and biting cold before; he would have managed just fine here, too, if not for the obvious health-related issues keeping him away from the battlefield most of the time.  
Mere weeks later, however, they had more pressing matters at hand: on 20 January a conference was to be held in Berlin, and Germany, Prussia and Austria were all expected to attend. Meanwhile Hungary was in the city also, invited there by Minister Goebbels, who had stated that their allies should all be treated well in order to ensure their continued alliance. Germany was pretty sure he had figured out why the man had wanted Hungary here _now_ , of all times: he had heard Prussia talk about her a little while ago, and as per usual the albino had spoken fondly of his old friend. Considering Goebbels's role in the government, Germany suspected he was trying to use Prussia as some sort of propaganda directed at Hungary: 'Look, we love you, and if you'll be our ally and aid us in our war, we'll make sure you're well taken care off!'  
Well, Hungary wasn't foolish enough to fall for something like that, and even if Prussia may not be aware that he was probably being used right now, he would figure it out sooner or later.  
Now, though, there were more important things to focus on.

"As you all know," Lieutenant-General Reinhard Heydrich began, "the deportation of Jews is only a temporary solution to our problems. Finally I can tell you that we've now established a plan of action from here on forward, and your full cooperation is needed for this." He looked at the attendees for a moment, his gaze trailing on the nations for just a split second longer than with any of the humans. "The Final Solution to this problem," the man then spoke clearly, "is extermination."  
There was a silence for just a moment, and Germany felt a flash of hope as he thought these people, his people, were having doubts about this plan. His hope faded seconds later when there were mumbles of agreement throughout the room.  
Heydrich looked pleased. "As you know, we have previously been executing people though the use of poison gas. This shall also be used in the extermination of these Jews. Now, Austria," he added turning to said nation, who paled in horror already. "From now on, you shall be overlooking the extermination rather than the camps themselves, understood?"  
Feeling his own stomach twist with dread at the mere idea, Germany held his gaze fixed on Austria, whose face rivalled Prussia's in paleness by now. Somewhat tense, the young nation wondered whether he should say something against this idea, that Austria shouldn't have to do such… 'work'. _But what?_ he thought with a pang of regret and guilt toward his cousin. _Nothing I say will make any difference. Nothing I say has_ _ **ever**_ _made any difference, for as long as this war has lasted!  
_ After a short hesitation, Austria nodded and choked out an answer, accepting this new position with great reluctance.  
Heydrich stared at the brown-haired nation for a few seconds after this, then turned to Prussia instead; the Free State's expression was blank, and not even Germany could tell what his elder brother was thinking. Was he as disgusted by these plans as Germany was? His eyes did not betray any of that, not even when the Lieutenant-General told him that, from now on, Prussia was to oversee the deportation of Jews, now that this would happen on a larger scale than before; they would need an extra pair of watchful eyes and ears for this to go smoothly.  
Prussia blinked calmly. "Sure, why not. Do I still need to work as a field medic, too?" The Free State looked disappointed when the answer to this was 'no'.  
"This way," Heydrich then stated, ignoring Prussia's dissatisfied mutter, "we'll have our nations working on both the Jewish Question and in the army, their capabilities equally divided between the two."  
"Whoa, wait up there," Prussia then interrupted, giving the human a confused stare. He glanced at Austria briefly before looking back at Heydrich. "Austria and I are working on the Jewish Question _together_ while Lu- I mean, Germany is in the army on his own. You mentioned an 'equal division of our capabilities'-"  
"Exactly," Heydrich answered calmly, his gaze even as he met Prussia's. Immediately the albino flinched, his red eyes widening indignantly, but he had the sense to stay quiet even when the human added: "Both of you are weaker than Germany in every way, but together you may just prove to be worth as much as him."  
"They're not _weaker_ than me in _any_ way!" Germany then protested despite knowing that this might cause trouble for all three of them. He wouldn't let anyone insult his brother or his cousin like that. "Austria has received nothing but praise for all the work he's done over the years, how is he suddenly not good enough? And Prussia's advice on strategies has spared us more than one defeat so far. He's also saved several soldiers' lives and he has captured Poland."  
"Are they not working on those things rather than in the army like you, though, because they're incapable of being soldiers?" another man, one that Germany didn't recognise, asked the young nation then. "Austria cannot fight because of his legs and Prussia will never recover from his stroke enough to serve in the army."  
 _Serve in the army!_ Germany thought, biting back a huff. _I've fought in a few battles, but not even I am fighting nearly as much as in the Great War!_ The young nation wanted to say something else, but Prussia was quicker. "Are you expecting us to just take this from you?!"  
"Prussia, please," Austria then put in almost tentatively, staring at his younger cousin with a pleading blue gaze. "Don't make it worse than it is."  
"It can't _be_ any worse than it is!" Germany protested, astonished by Austria's reaction. How could he be so calm when he was basically being told that he was useless, right after being told he was now expected to mass-murder innocent people? "You both deserve respect and they should show you that respect!"  
"That's quite enough of you!" Heydrich then roared, silencing everyone present in a heartbeat. He was tense with rage as he stared at the three nations. "If you're only going to be disrupting this conference, I ask that you leave now. Any information that's relevant for you will be passed on to you when we've finished." He gave an impatient gesture for the nations to leave. "Now go. Isn't Hungary in Berlin, also? Go to her and be a good host like you should be."  
Making no attempt to hide his anger, Germany promptly stood up and left, not looking back. There were limits. All of them had _limits_ , and these humans were getting much too close to crossing them. Austria already couldn't handle the emotional strain his job entailed and Prussia felt worthless enough without being degraded by some humans. As for Germany himself…  
…By now he was fairly certain that he had lost any clue as to what he should do years ago already.  
 _It's only going to get worse. We won't win this. Even if we succeed in conquering the world,_ _ **we won't win this.**_  
He drove those thoughts out of his head, taking a deep breath. The young nation knew that, whatever the outcome of this war would be, it would be Hell. He had known this for a fact since the war had started. Back then he had made his resolve, and he would not back out of that now. Not ever.  
He wouldn't stop now. He couldn't stop anymore. It was not up to a nation to openly oppose his leader, that's what Prussia had told him, making this fact very clear to his younger brother. Germany would follow that advice, if that was what the world expected of him. It was the only path he could follow. The path enclosed by high, impenetrable walls. No windows. No doors. No way back.  
The only choice he had was to keep on marching, chin up, going deeper and deeper into that darkness.

* * *

"So now you're not allowed to work in the medical staff anymore?" Hungary asked that evening, looking at Prussia. The three German nations had just told her what had happened at the conference. The young woman just snorted. "Such idiots. You'll get your job back once they realise how much they miss you as a medic, Gil, don't worry." Her expression changed in an instant when she turned to Austria instead. He still looked distressed and horrified. "Oh, Roderich…" she sighed. "You don't have to do everything they tell you to, surely? Can't you tell them that this goes too far for you?"  
"Maybe if I were feeling particularly masochistic, I would," Austria replied quietly. That was all he wanted to say now, clearly, for he averted his gaze afterward, staring at a wall and lost in thought.  
Hungary looked at him for a moment longer, but then she must have decided to leave him be for now. Prussia followed her gaze as she looked at Germany instead; the younger nation was obviously troubled by something. "Are you all right, sweetie?" Hungary asked him gently.  
Prussia bit the inside of his lip as his younger brother shook his head stubbornly and answered that he was fine. The Free State knew better than to insist on getting an honest answer out of Germany; somehow, the tactic that had always worked on Prussia in the past and which had also been effective on Germany was getting counterproductive.  
Suddenly Germany got up from where he sat. "I should prepare to leave again soon," he stated flatly without looking at any of the others. "I'll be going straight to bed when I'm done with that, so good night." Austria then got to his feet and said that some solitude and a bed sounded just perfect right now, and a minute later both nations were gone, leaving Prussia and Hungary alone.  
There was a silence between them at first, but then Hungary leant against Prussia with a deep sigh, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I can't stand this, Gil," she said softly. "Seeing you all like this. Roderich never used to be so distant and poor Ludwig… I can't even tell how he's doing most of the time." Prussia could feel her press a little closer as she grew tense. "One moment he hates the war, the next moment he doesn't seem to mind it much… And you…" Hungary straightened herself and looked Prussia straight in the eyes, her gaze sympathetic. "You're… still feeling bad about Poland, I take it?"  
Of course she knew about that. Prussia had in fact not been thinking about his enemy all month, after having tried very hard to banish such thoughts from his mind. During the conference, however, he had been reminded of it once again. "You don't think they'll…" he began tentatively, feeling a lump of guilt and shame in his throat like when he had first heard where Poland was being held. "Surely they won't… try to gas him, too…?"  
"Don't think about such things," Hungary told him gently, although there was a flicker of distress in her eyes as Prussia spoke.  
"But what if they do?" Prussia went on, ignoring her. Completely against his will, he began picturing it in his mind. Poland alone in some dark room, the air being filled with poison, the nation choking on it, his airways burnt up by the gas… _No one deserves that._ Prussia felt sick by now, desperately trying to stop his mind from imagining all this so vividly. "What if they make Austria do it, and Poland dies? Or if humans do it, and he _survives that_." He shuddered for a moment. "It… would be my fault…"  
Once again, Hungary told him not to think of that. "That you feel bad," she assured him warmly, smiling at him, "that's what shows that you're not to blame. You did not decide to put him in a concentration camp. You will not be the one to decide what happens with him from here on."  
Prussia shook his head with a huff. Why did she understand one thing so easily, but couldn't she understand this at all? "I could have known what they would do to him," he insisted stubbornly. "I _should_ have known!" It would all be his fault. So yes, maybe Prussia could be somewhat sadistic. Maybe he could be cruel. _This_ went far beyond what he could do with little to no remorse. Whatever Poland now had to suffer through, it was undoubtedly worse than what Prussia would wish on anyone.  
Hungary was just as stubborn as him. "You remind me of Ludwig," she said with a soft sigh and an amused twinkle in her green eyes. "After what happened to Scotland in the Great War, he was just like this. What did you tell him then? 'It's not your fault'." She pulled him toward her for a moment, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Listen to your own advice, Gil. Stop beating yourself up over this."  
 _The difference between what I did and what Ludwig did,_ Prussia wanted to argue, but he held his tongue now. _Ludwig had no idea that he was harming a nation. I willingly and knowingly targeted Poland, without bothering to stop and think about the consequences._ Even so, Hungary probably had a point. The Free State took a deep breath and then breathed out slowly. "I'll try…" he said in a whisper. "Thanks, Lizzie."  
The young woman just smiled even wider and gave him another peck on the cheek. Then she got to her feet and held her hand out to him. "Maybe it's about time we went to bed, also. End this day. Tomorrow may turn out to be better again."

'Tomorrow' still didn't quite start for them yet, though; Prussia still lay pondering in his bed, staring at the ceiling. That despite Hungary lying next to him.  
The plan had been for _someone_ to sleep on the couch while Hungary was in Berlin, whether that someone was Hungary herself or Prussia or anyone, but that hadn't happened in the end, for reasons Prussia himself didn't really understand. But he didn't mind it. It was a little awkward though, for both Prussia and Hungary and likely for Austria, too, that Hungary was sharing a bed with Prussia now rather than with Austria. The last time Prussia had slept next to Hungary, not counting that little incident where Hungary had been drunk, had been at the start of the 19th century. The time before that, they had been children. This… still took some getting used to….  
Right now, Hungary was inspecting him quietly and sighed after a few minutes. "All right, Gil, I'm done with this," she told him, a little more bluntly than before. "Talk."  
For a moment Prussia was still silent, unsure what to say, until he decided to just blurt out what was on his mind, random as that may be. "I've wanted to do some pretty fucked up things in the past," he confessed softly, his red gaze still fixed on the ceiling. He could still recall his feelings when he'd declared his hatred for this world, when he had sworn revenge for all the pain he'd been put through. It was mostly gone now, but it had never really left. The Prussian bit back a sigh. "I swore to unleash Hell on this world for all that's been done to me. All the pain. The injustice. In the end having nearly my entire family ripped away…" He had wanted to watch the world burn. He had really, truly wanted to set the entire world on fire and watch everyone in it be consumed by the flames like they had once tried to do to him. The entire ocean would have run red with blood before he would have been done with everyone. Even so…  
Prussia bit his lip for a moment, reflecting on that. "Guess what? My dreams came true." Hell really had been unleashed on this world now. Except this was not the revenge of the Legendary Black Eagle.  
This was the insanity of some psychopathic Austrian.  
"Hell's here, Lizzie. All around us. _And I hate it._ " He took a deep breath and held that for a moment, closing his eyes. The moment he did so, however, he saw Poland again, horrifying images conjured up by his mind, and he prayed that they were just his imagination. "Poland was near the top of my list of people I wanted to tear apart," the albino nation went on in a whisper. "Well, I've come _this_ close to doing so. I've hurt him, I've drugged him just for fun, I've taken him prisoner and condemned him to a terrible fate. And you know what, Lizzie? I could not be more disgusted with myself."  
The silence that fell between them felt heavy, and every second of it was slowly choking Prussia. For just a moment, he felt like there was no better sound in the entire world than Hungary's voice when she finally broke that terrible, crushing silence. "We all fantasise about hurting others one in a while, I'm sure," she answered carefully. "I know I have. It's only human, you know: no one is a saint, no one is pure and innocent and sweet all the time. It's acting on those darker desires that sets the bad people apart from the good. I'll admit, you _have_ done more than your fair share of… rather twisted things in your life. But look at it this way," she then added, leaning over Prussia and forcing him to look at her now. There was a determined light in her eyes, which somehow was soothing to Prussia, and he felt calmer just by staring into her beautiful green irises. "Yes, you have caused people misery, Gil. That much is a fact. But don't you think that someone like Hitler has caused the world more misery in a few short years so far than you have done in _centuries_?" She leant down and kissed him again, on the lips this time, still a rarity between them. Honestly, Prussia wasn't sure what to define their relationship as these days. Whatever it was, he enjoyed it, and she was just who he needed to ease his mind a little now. Brandenburg wasn't around at the moment, after all.  
When the two nations parted after their kiss, Hungary gently pressed her face into Prussia's snowy white hair. "Whatever you are, Gil, you're _not_ evil. Anyone who has ever thought so should take a long, hard look on who's ruling Germany right now, who's head of state in Russia, to name only two examples. _That_ is sick, _that_ is cruel and twisted and I daresay _evil_. You're not. You never have been."  
Prussia just closed his eyes and breathed in her scent as she half lay on him like that. It was moments like these that made him realise how he could have loved both Brandenburg and Hungary.  
They could both be blunt, to the point that their words could hurt more than a knife did. At the same time, both of them could convince him that he was a better person than he was, they knew what to say and when. They made him believe that he really did deserve better than what life had given him so far, all by doing one simple thing that barely anyone had ever done for him: _caring._  
He couldn't wait to be with Brandenburg again. Until that day came, though, he would be perfectly happy with Hungary.

* * *

Germany knew that he was dreaming when he found himself in the streets of Berlin. The city looked perfectly normal, the people looked perfectly normal, and that was just what convinced him that he wasn't awake at that moment; if he had been, he would have seen signs of the war. In fact, this was more like the Berlin he'd known even before the Great War. Peaceful. Flourishing.  
The young nation sighed. Why couldn't that time have lasted forever, or longer than it had, at least? The world had never been right again since.  
"That's because time passes and people change, dear."  
Germany halted, startled by this sudden answer to his thoughts. Confused, he looked to his left, from where he had heard that strange voice. A young woman stood beside him, barely more than a teenager, actually. She looked to be around the same age as Germany, although her eyes betrayed wisdom and experience befitting an old lady. The girl's light brown hair was tied back with two braids, joining at the back in a ponytail that only just reached her shoulders. There was a strange warmth in her blue gaze as she looked up at Germany, a certain familiarity, as though they'd known each other for years instead of being the total strangers they were.  
That look in her eyes unnerved Prussia almost as much as her words had done, but her words still won in the end. "How did you know what I was thinking?" he asked this strange girl, taking a step away from her.  
She only smiled warmly, her eyes glowing with warmth even more strongly. "That's something I can just do, Ludwig," she answered softly, chuckling a little for a moment. "One of the perks of being dead." She said that as calmly as if she was talking about the weather.  
 _Who even is she?_  
The girl blinked at him. "I'm Brandenburg."  
Those simple words sent Germany's head spinning and he felt dizzy for a moment. Brandenburg? Impossible. Brandenburg had been dead for almost 250 years. _That's what she just said, idiot._ No, he was just dreaming. Of course this wasn't Brandenburg, not really. This was the Brandenburg as he imagined her to be, and if he had to be honest, his imagination was disappointing him just a little right now. This girl wasn't nearly as beautiful as Prussia had once described her to be.  
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."  
Involuntarily, Germany felt his face grow hot after hearing this response. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"  
Brandenburg laughed for a moment. "Don't sweat it, dear. I know you didn't mean to offend me, and you didn't. If anything, it flatters me that you gave me more credit than I deserve in your imagination." Something flashed in her eyes then, a shimmer of a deep, strong emotion that robbed Germany of his breath when he saw it. Brandenburg sighed softly. "Prussia doesn't talk about me and the others a lot, I know, but don't blame him for that, please."  
"Of course not," Germany answered hoarsely, still staring at her eyes, astonished by the amount of love he saw there, from the moment she'd said Prussia's name. _No wonder he misses her so much,_ he thought then, having to remind himself to breathe again. _What must that be like, to be loved so deeply by someone?_ Of course, he knew that Prussia cared more about him than about anything else in this world, and he though the same of his elder brother, but he was fairly certain that this was still different. He wouldn't want to lose it either, especially if he felt the same way about that person, had a connection with someone like the Personal Union between Brandenburg and Prussia had been.  
It was quiet for a moment then, and after about a minute of silence, Brandenburg sighed softly and turned away. "Come, Ludwig," she told him in a gentle tone. "Let's find somewhere we can sit and talk; this isn't the right place to have a conversation." She started walking without checking to see if he was following, confident that he would do so.  
Which the young nation did, of course. Naturally this was a dream, it was all just his imagination, but even so, it was a peaceful dream without the constant worry about the war. That, and Germany had always been curious about Brandenburg, even if she wasn't real.  
Brandenburg led him to a square and sat down on a bench at the edge of it. It was only after he sat down beside her that Germany realised all the people walking through the streets earlier were gone now, as if they hadn't been there in the first place. It was only him and Brandenburg.  
When the girl was still silent even when Germany sat beside her, the blond nation began to feel a bit awkward. Uncomfortable, he glanced around, staring at the buildings surrounding them. Why was he dreaming something as crazy as this? For all he could recall, he hadn't been drinking any alcohol and dinner had been normal too, so those things couldn't have caused this. He hadn't particularly been thinking about Brandenburg and there had been few mentions of her for months now. _I would like to wake up now, if that's possible._  
His thoughts came to a halt when Brandenburg shifted a little beside him. "Would you do something for me, Ludwig?" she asked him all of a sudden, and he nodded confusedly. A smile played on the girl's lips then, and the twinkle in his eyes confused him only more. "For just a moment, pretend I'm real, would you?"  
"Impossible," Germany replied instantly, maybe a little too bluntly, but there was no way such a thing could be true. "You're not Brandenburg; she has been dead for centuries. I've seen her grave, I've heard the story of how she died. You're not her. That's impossible."  
Brandenburg looked unfazed by his outright refusal to even pretend, and only calmly gazed up at him. "But what if it wasn't?" she insisted patiently. "I'm not asking you to pretend you're talking to a ghost, or that I came back to life. What if I had never died? You've thought about that before, I know you have." She paused for a moment, blinking once, then smiled warmly again. "Please try. Pretend I never died. Can you do that for me?"  
Speechless, Germany stared at her, his head spinning at the sheer absurdity of this dream. He was still trying to figure out what he'd done wrong to bring on such an unusual, slightly unsettling dream. But then he just sighed. "I... I guess…" It was true that he had once or twice tried to imagine what life would have been like if Brandenburg had still been around. Prussia would most certainly have been a totally different person. Germany imagined that his brother would have been a lot happier with Brandenburg by his side still, maybe less insecure about his so-called 'weaknesses' while at the same time Brandenburg might have been able to mellow down his occasional bouts of arrogance, too.  
Brandenburg nodded with a grateful twinkle in her eyes, and some careful amusement, too. "Thank you, Ludwig." She shifted again, sitting a little straighter, and turned her gaze to the sky. "So if I were alive and well and sitting beside you like this," the girl then said, "what would you want to talk to me about?"  
That question was one Germany had expected least of all, and he was totally speechless yet again. What _would_ he talk about? There was so much he would want to ask. Most of those questions would be totally irrelevant, unimportant chit-chat. What were her hobbies, did she like to travel, who did she get along well with aside from Prussia. Things to get to know her. To get to know his family. But those things weren't important. What else would he want to ask her?  
After a long silence, the words tumbled over his lips all on their own, it seemed. "Something's been off about Prussia for a long time now," he began with a deep sigh. "I don't know what it is, but something's bothering him, I just know it. Something that he hasn't told me. Sometimes he just stares into space, and it looks as if he's looking at something, but nothing will be there, and it freaks me out. H-he's not… hallucinating, is he?" He felt a cold shiver go down his spine at the thought, and he shook his head, pushing away those thoughts. He took a deep breath and went on. "I just wish he would tell me what's on his mind sometimes. Austria, too. His work is breaking him, I can see him declining every time he gets back from his job. More than Prussia, _Austria_ has always been… stable." Whenever Prussia's mental state was swinging back and forth between good and troublesome, Austria had been the family Germany could turn to for normalcy, for advice, for reassurance… Whatever he needed most at that moment, Austria would somehow know what that was and often be able to provide it. Now his cousin was secluding himself, pondering day and night, clearly in need of help himself for a change. And Germany didn't know what to do. He wanted to help, he wanted to repay Austria for all the help he'd given him, but he had no idea how.  
"My boss is crazy," the blond nation went on, feeling desperate as he thought about Hitler. "Yet, I can't help but be grateful for what he's done for us; he rebuilt our economy, he brought stability to the government and he improved infrastructure and…" He stifled a sigh, his shoulders sagging. "But then, he's also a cruel, heartless bastard who's trying to slaughter thousands of people -and succeeding. And the war…" He paused for a moment, almost deciding to stop there, but if he couldn't speak freely in his own dreams, where else could he do so? "I'm still _so_ angry at Europe. Certain nations, at least. France could have killed us with what he did to our economy. The United Kingdom said they thought it went too far, the occupation of the Ruhr and the war debt, but what did they do to stop it? Not a thing. They deserve to know that we're not putting up with that anymore, that we refuse to be treated that way, but… This war is too much. Whole cities are being destroyed, innocent citizens are losing their lives. Innocent nations are suffering, too." He still felt sick when he thought about Luxembourg. Would the man ever be able to forgive Germany for what he'd done? Probably not. Germany couldn't even forgive himself.  
He felt even worse when he thought about Prussia again. "Hitler really dislikes Prussia for some reason. That worries me. Prussia has to be careful all the time as to not anger our boss, and you know Prussia -being careful isn't one of his strong points."  
Brandenburg had been silent for as long as Germany was talking, patiently listening to what he had to say. Something in her blue gaze was soothing when Germany looked at her, but even that wasn't enough to make him feel even remotely at ease. "I hate this war. I hate having to fight innocent people. Yet for some reason, it sometimes feels… right. As if we're actually doing this for a good cause. But we're not. I know we're not. So why would I feel as if all this is justified? It's _not!_ But I can't stop -Hitler would have me killed. He would at least give it a damn good try, and I… I need to stay alive for my people. But that's just the thing…" He was shivering by now, feeling as if he was choking on something, his mind reeling. "If I follow my leader and do nothing, my people will suffer in this godawful war. If I resist and try to stop him, who knows what will happen. Either way, my people are suffering, and I…" He tried to breathe in deeply, but he couldn't, and he lowered his gaze to the floor. "What should I do…?"  
Brandenburg's soft voice seemed to slice right through his panic and ease his mind in a heartbeat. "Just remember who you are, dear," she told him gently. "There is no way out of this situation that won't be painful and difficult one way or the other, but so long as you don't lose sight of yourself, you'll make it through."  
As she spoke, Germany began to feel dizzy, less aware of his surroundings in a way. Eventually even Brandenburg began to fade, but her voice was still clear.  
"Don't forget who you are, Germany. That's all you need to do."

* * *

 **Haaa... It really does feel good to have finished a chapter again. _So good._**

 **I hope no one's too opposed to minor kinda-sorta-PruHun. They're not in a serious relationship, but... it's not _nothing_ for sure :)**

 **And finally, Germany met Brandenburg, even if he doesn't know it. I wasn't sure if this was the right moment to add this at first, but now...**

 **So yeah, basically, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and thank you very much for reading!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Apologies for the short chapter.**

 **A big thank-you to everyone who reviewed, favourited and/or followed!**

 **Er... Don't have much else to say here, so yeah... I hope you'll like this chapter!**

* * *

By summer 1942, Prussia was working in Czechoslovakia, stationed in Prague as he went about listing all the Jews living in the city, where they lived, if they were high priority to be apprehended and deported and where they should be send if they were to be rounded up. The pressure was high with Heydrich in the city also; he had to bring out frequent reports to the man, and it felt to Prussia as if his superior was breathing down his neck constantly.  
The citizens of Prague didn't make it much easier on him either, of course.

Prussia was walking down a street with two soldiers by his side, on their way to apprehend a family of five. Rather than listening to the two humans by his side as they talked to each other, the nation was focusing on Holy Rome. The dead Empire was walking in front of him, looking over his shoulder every now and then as he spoke. The conversation was a fairly normal one; they didn't mention the fact that Prussia was about to sentence an entire family to death, basically, as that would only make the task more difficult. Prussia would have to do this, no questions asked, and Holy Rome was just trying to be a source of distraction for his little brother right now.  
One moment when Holy Rome looked back at him, his eyes widened suddenly, and he hastily said: "Prussia, duck!"  
The Prussian blinked in confusion, answering in thought as he always did. _What do you-?_ "Ow!" The nation stopped walking when something hard hit him on the back of his head, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. A second later he spun around, seeing a couple of young boys staring defiantly at the three German soldiers in front of them. Two of them still had stones in their hands and looked ready to throw them.  
For just a moment, Prussia nearly let his anger get the best of him, but then he told himself that these were children. They were just like that, no need to be too harsh on them. Still gingerly rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head, he faced the boys with a stern look in his eyes. "Throw another rock and you'll be sorry, you little brats!" he yelled at them, trying to look and sound intimidating even though he had already made up his mind to not hurt them.  
The boys looked surprised to hear him speak Czech -more or less. He did know quite a bit of Polish, and the two languages were similar enough that he had figured out some Czech relatively easily, also. But after their moment of surprise, one of them took a step forward, the boldest of the group it seemed.  
"You're a monster!" the boy spat at him, a defiant look in his eyes.  
Prussia gritted his teeth, but still breathed in deeply to keep himself under control. "Heard that one before, kid."  
"We don't want monsters in our city!"  
One of the soldiers muttered a question what those kids were saying, but before Prussia could answer a second stone sailed through the air, hitting Prussia just under the ribs and knocking the air right out of him. As he gasped for breath, the nation saw the soldier on his left raise his pistol, aimed at the little boy who had just thrown the rock. With a jolt of panic, Prussia spun around, just as he heard two of the children yelp in fear.  
It all happened in a flash: the man's hand was on the trigger of his weapon already, his gaze even and determined, focussed on his target. From the corners of his eyes, Prussia could see two boys turn to run away, the others -including the soldier's chosen target- were frozen in fear. Prussia felt himself slam into the soldier at the exact moment that there was a loud bang. Even before he hit the ground, the soldier pinned underneath him, the nation had heard several of the children scream, some bystanders, too.  
Prussia's ears were ringing for a moment as he scrambled off the squirming soldier underneath him, but he ignored that and immediately looked to his right; one of the boys had been hit, but not badly so, for only his shoulder was visibly injured.  
Prussia pushed himself to his feet, staring down at the human soldier for just a moment. "What were you _thinking?!_ " he snapped at the man, who was staring up at him indignantly. "They're just kids!" Then he looked at the group of boys; the two who had looked like they were going to run had turned back and joined the others, who were comforting their injured friend as the young boy was crying softly and clutching his shoulder in pain.  
Quickly the Prussian went their way, but the uninjured children spotted him and went to stand between him and their friend. Prussia admired their courage silently, but even so he had to stifle a sigh. A metre or so before them, he knelt down, looking the bold little man who had called him a monster earlier in the eyes. "I can help him, if you'll let me," he told the boy gently, hoping his Czech was somewhat understandable to them. "I'm a doctor, you see. I can fix his shoulder."  
For just a moment it looked like the children were considering letting him help, but then the last of the stones the boys had attacked him with earlier was thrown, hitting Prussia against his cheek, just under his left eye -it would have shattered his glasses, had they not fallen off when he tackled the soldier earlier. He flinched, and it was only the sound of the injured child still crying softly that kept him calm enough not to lash out when the apparent leader of the group spat in his face. "Then go fix yourself, stupid German!" the boy sneered. His shaking hands were clenched into fists, ready to land a punch on Prussia's nose.  
But the nation stood up before that could happen. He brushed his hand over his stinging cheek for a moment, clenching his jaws as he felt a fairly large cut there. There was quite some blood on his hands when he glanced at it, too. _If that thing had hit my eye…!_ He sighed. "That's your loss then, kid," he told the boy. He then looked past him and at the injured boy, drawing his attention gently. "You're a brave little lad, you know that?" Prussia told him with a faint smile on his lips. "But please don't go around attacking soldiers anymore, all right? I won't always be around to stop them from hurting you." He glanced at the other boys for a moment, too, glad to see that some of them were actually paying attention to what he was saying. "The same goes for all of you. Throwing stones at people isn't very nice, and I actually came really close to hitting one of you for it. So don't do it, okay?"  
It was quiet for a moment, but then one of the boys who had been quiet before commented softly: "You talk weird."  
Prussia grinned at this for a moment. So typical of children, although it was good to know that they weren't too shaken by what had just happened. "Self-taught," the nation answered with a shrug. "Can't help it." He then turned around and went back to his soldiers, telling them sharply that he didn't want to see either of them point a gun at a child ever again, which they didn't argue about. The one who had grabbed his pistol earlier huffed a little, though, clearly not pleased about it.  
When they neared the end of the street, one of them glanced at Prussia with a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "Perhaps you should have that seen to," the human suggested carefully. "That cut looks deep, and there's some blood in your hair, too; there must be a cut on the back of your head, also, from that first attack."  
Prussia brushed his hand over the back of his head without really thinking about it, feeling warm liquid there indeed. He felt a flash of fear for just a moment then, when he realised that he had just received two blows on his head and neither had been too soft. He shot Holy Rome a quick glance.  
The Empire only smiled reassuringly. "It's all right, Prussia," he told his little brother, knowing what the albino had wanted to ask him. "You're fine. Although it's never a bad idea to sit down after hurting your head like this."  
Prussia made up his mind immediately, though, in spite of being assured that he wouldn't be in trouble over this. "That would probably be for the best," he lied quickly. "I'll do that. Can you manage without me?" The nation suppressed a relieved sigh when both soldiers told him that it was no problem; they would rather do this on their own than have to deal with a colleague collapsing because of a concussion in the middle of it. So on the next corner of the street, the two human soldiers turned left to their destination, and Prussia stayed behind for a moment before heading back home.  
Anything to not have to do his job.

* * *

Germany had known the day would come, although he hadn't expected it quite yet. Even so, he was strangely grateful that it had happened now. Finally the war was over. He was tired, he was in pain, he felt weak and feeble. He was happy. _It was over._  
Beside him, Prussia was staring at the floor as they faced their enemies, the victors in this war. The albino's cheek was swollen and bruised after having taken a punch or two before admitting defeat. He didn't look quite as relieved as Germany felt, despite having wished for an end to the war for a long time as well. Instead, Prussia looked almost withdrawn, as if he tried to pay as little attention to the other nations as possible, his absent gaze showing that he was lost in thought.  
Germany felt a twinge of pity for his brother, knowing that Prussia probably felt as bad as he did himself, but their enemies drew his attention a bit more than his brother did. This was new for him, facing his enemies just moments after losing the war against them. Last time he had been at home when it happened, fairly sick, and due to that he actually didn't even fully remember what it had truly been like to hear that his army had surrendered. Now he sat on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back, as England, France, Russia, Scotland and America stared down at him triumphantly.  
It was the knowledge that the war was over and they could start rebuilding from the ruins left by chaos that eased his mind. It was his own current position that made his heart pound in his chest as his gaze anxiously flicked from one face to another and back again. Why was no one saying anything?  
Almost as if on cue, England stepped forward. His emerald stare was cold as he looked down at his two defeated enemies. "I would like to say that, finally, there's some justice in this world, but I would be lying," he said harshly, his voice laced with anger and disdain as he spoke. "Simply bringing the two of you to your knees like this is still a far cry from true justice, after all that you've done," the British nation went on. " _Nothing_ can ever right the wrong you've both done anymore. You've violated the rules we all agreed on in the Treaty of Versailles. You've annexed countries and oppressed them. You've committed genocide, killing thousands upon thousands of innocent people. You've condemned millions to living in fear every day, wondering whether or not they would have anything to eat that day, would their family and friends be safe, would their house even still be there when they would get home from work?" The Englishman sounded absolutely disgusted as he said this, and by the end of it there was a slight tremor in his voice, some sort of disbelief, as if he couldn't quite comprehend just how much damage had been done in this war. Germany certainly couldn't.  
Scotland narrowed his pale blue eyes in pure rage. "What you've done is unforgivable," he said darkly, and the look he gave Prussia made Germany silently grateful that his brother wasn't looking at them.  
America stepped forward and roughly yanked Germany by the shoulder. "Get up, both of you," he snapped commandingly. "We'll see what to do with you yet."  
Refusing to be dragged to his feet, Germany stood up after shrugging America's hand off, a little unbalanced with his hands tied behind his back. America just scoffed at this, clearly unimpressed, and looked at Prussia instead. Only when the older nation again barked a command at Prussia to stand up also did Germany look at his brother again.  
Prussia hadn't moved an inch yet. The albino nation was trembling lightly as he sat on his knees. Feeling worry for his brother bubble up inside him, Germany wondered immediately what was wrong. France didn't share that thought, and the old nation took a few brisk steps towards Prussia. "Get up already, asshole," the Frenchman snarled as he gave the Prussian a rough kick against his shoulder, causing him to fall forward, face-down on the sandy ground.  
For a moment, Prussia didn't react at all, just lay limply and still trembling on the ground. Then he curled up a little, grunting softly, his eyes closed tight and his jaws clenched. Suddenly Germany spotted a dark red line on the side of his elder brother's head; there was a slow trickle of blood coming from Prussia's ear.  
 _It can't be…_  
The Prussian was trembling ever more violently, then lay completely still for a moment. Blood was trickling from his nose now, too, the sight of it and the implications it held almost making Germany's heart stop in fear and dread.  
The other nations seemed to realise that something was very, very wrong now, too, and for just an instant looked like they considered doing something to help. But no one moved.  
Then, all of a sudden, Prussia's body started convulsing, tremors going through his entire body and blood spilling over his lips now, too. The convulsions went on for just a few seconds, then the albino was completely still yet again. This time, there wasn't even the faintest rise and fall of his chest or the slightest shiver. He'd had another stroke, Germany realised, unable to breathe. Prussia had just suffered another stroke, and this time, clearly, had also been the last one.  
Just like that, Germany's elder brother was dead.  
There was a long silence, in which Germany wished with all his heart that what he had just seen and what he was seeing now wasn't true, couldn't be true, it hadn't happened. Then there was a soft sigh, and Germany couldn't tell whose voice it was when he heard someone speak.  
"Well," the nation said, "that saves us a lot of trouble."

Germany woke with a start, his breathing fast and shallow and his muscles tense all over. Terrified by what he had just witnessed, he sat up, frantically glancing around. Prussia wasn't there anymore, and neither were the Allied Forces.  
He was inside a tent. It was dark outside. A small desk in the corner, paper stacked on it. Near silence outside, but not quite.  
Where was Prussia? The young nation got to his feet, still struggling to control his breathing. He had realised, of course, that he had been dreaming, but that didn't change the fact that he wanted to see his brother and make sure that he was all right. He _had to_ check on Prussia. When he found his legs still shaky with shock after his nightmare, Germany took a moment to take a deep breath and calm himself. He couldn't help Prussia when he was like this, after all. A minute later, he turned and determinedly walked to the entrance of the tent, stepping outside.  
Only to stop there.  
Prussia wasn't here. He wasn't anywhere near. Of course he wasn't: he was working elsewhere, in Prague if he wasn't mistaken. Germany was at the Eastern Front again, fighting in battles. Aimless, hopeless battles.  
He sighed when he realised this, how stupid he had been just now, thinking that he could just go to his brother. At least, he told himself, Prussia's work was relatively safe, much more so than fighting was anyway. He would probably be all right, although Germany would have preferred if his brother were still working as a field medic or if he were to create tactics like he used to. More than Germany, Prussia really had to look after himself now if he was to come out of this war alive. As little stress as possible was a necessity for the Free State, and the slimmer the chance of him getting injured, the better. Germany at least would still heal quickly with little chance of lasting damage.  
"Is anything the matter, sir?"  
Germany nearly jumped when he suddenly heard a voice beside him, and trying to look as calm as he could, he glanced to his left. A soldier who had been on guard duty was staring at him questioningly, a hint of worry in his eyes. The nation sighed. "No, it's nothing. I was just hoping to get some fresh air, that's all." He hoped the lie was in any way convincing. The young German thanked the stars for a moment, that he had a small tent to himself; if anyone had seen him act the way he had when he had just woken up… He nearly shuddered at the thought.  
The human only nodded, blinking tiredly. Seeing this, an idea popped up in Germany's mind, and he suggested calmly: "How about I take over for you, since I'm awake anyway? Get some sleep, you look like you need it."  
For a moment it looked as if the soldier was going to protest, but his common sense and likely also his exhaustion got the better of him quickly, and he thanked Germany with a grateful shimmer in his eyes before leaving.

Alone now, Germany went to the edge of the camp they'd made, staring up at the inky black sky. It was cloudy, but here and there he could see the faint shimmer of stars in small gaps between the clouds. The moon was nowhere to be seen, making it hard to see more than a few metres ahead of him.  
Prussia was probably asleep at this time. Hopefully Austria was, too. He especially had been at his limit when they had seen each other last, early that year. Germany had sent him a letter each month, but he had only received one reply so far, in which Austria had claimed to be too busy to write back. Even so, Germany refused to ignore his cousin, hoping that the Austrian at least had the time to read his letters and that they would be some positive distraction for him.  
Prussia seemed to have more time, or at least he took the time to keep up contact with Germany, which was also how the younger of the two knew where his brother was working right now. He complained about his work being awful, about how little he wanted to continue apprehending innocent people, but said little else about it. Instead he often asked how Germany was doing, how were things progressing at the Eastern Front? In his latest letter, which had been hardly legible, he explained how someone had knocked his glasses off his face by accident, which resulted in the glass breaking, and now he had to wait until the replacement was made -which would be at least a week. That, of course, was also the reason his handwriting was so bad in that particular letter, and why he had filled two pages with it where he would normally have been able to fit all of it on just half a page.  
Most of what Prussia wrote, however, was light-hearted chit-chat, something which Germany usually despised but which he now craved, just to escape reality for as long as he was reading those letters his brother sent him. Every time he opened an envelope, he felt a rush of relief and warmth, and he would often re-read the letters he got several times whenever he wanted to pretend there was no war to worry about.  
But there was. There was a war, and he couldn't escape it even if he so foolishly tried every single day. There was a war, and for what? He knew now that taking revenge on Europe for all that they'd done to him and his brother wasn't nearly as satisfying as he had thought it would be. He had enjoyed knowing how much they had hurt France, how they had managed to defeat him so easily and how they could conquer left and right if they put their minds to it. This went too far, though. He had never wanted to hurt _people_ , only _nations_. It did feel good to have done the latter, but the former he would have rather left out of it. The bad outweighed the good.  
It always did.  
 _But your battles aren't pointless,_ a voice said in the back of his mind, and he saw his nightmare again: Prussia lying at his feet, blood coming out of his ears and his nose and spilling over his lips. And then he reminded himself of life before the war, of the struggles and the pain and the injustice they had been put through. Their people had suffered, and in turn, so had they. Germany himself had been too sick to stand more than once. The situation had caused the political chaos in Prussia, which had in turn resulted in his near-fatal stroke. If they had been human, both of them would have worked themselves to death before 1924. If they hadn't received any help at all, they would have been killed through their economy. That help they got, well, that had nearly killed them too.  
 _Your battles are, in essence, for the best cause of all._  
Yes, things were going too far, no one could deny that. But their first battles, rebelling against the rules that had been imposed on them, those had a purpose. Now that they were in this deep, with no way back, no way out, their newest battles were slowly getting that same purpose. Now they were to avoid them being put back in the hopeless position they had been in before. And that was why he couldn't give up, why he had to go on, why he had to fight two, no, three times as hard, in Austria and Prussia's stead too, now that they were unable to fight for themselves.  
 _We're fighting for survival._

* * *

On 27 May, Czech rebels in Prague made an assassination attempt against Reinhard Heydrich. Although the assassination had failed, they did succeed in dangerously wounding the man, and it wasn't completely certain yet whether or not he would survive after all.  
Prussia had received word about this attack just hours after it had taken place, when he got back to his temporary residence in Prague after apprehending two Jew men who had been in hiding just outside the city. The nation had been told that his superior had been operated on, that the blast that should have killed him had broken his ribs and that fragments had pierced his lungs. He was under constant supervision now and received several types of medication as part of post-operative care. Morphine was among those medicine, and Prussia scowled inwardly when he heard this, although he tried not to show it. That man didn't deserve any painkillers. They should have operated on him without sedatives, even, for all the pain he had caused others.  
Days later, on 1 June, Prussia was called in to hear more about how Heydrich was doing after the attack, and also to be of help if he could. Before he walked into the room where the human was being treated and later when he saw the man, Prussia had no intention of doing any such thing. The moment he lay eyes on his superior, he felt the same old disgust and hatred for him welling up rapidly.  
As he stared down at the man, sick and weak after the attack, he could only think of how he deserved every second of his suffering and more. All the lives that had been ended prematurely because of him, all the lives that had been ruined forever. His decisions had even gotten close to breaking Prussia himself, and Austria, too; it had not been Hitler, Prussia had found out, who had ordered the change in the two nations' work, although he had approved of it. Putting Austria in charge of mass-murdering the innocent people Prussia had to gather and send to their final destinations had been _Heydrich's_ idea. He had made Austria's situation even worse when the older nation had already been at his breaking point, and he had snatched away the one thing that could ease Prussia's mind other than talking to either his little brother or to _ghosts_. And now he expected help?  
 _Oh, I'll give you a hand,_ the Prussian thought darkly as he stared down at the injured human, suppressing a grin. He quickly hid his dark satisfaction with this situation when he turned to look at Gebhardt, the physician who had been tending to Heydrich so far. No one else had been allowed near him, until they had asked for Prussia's aid.  
The middle-aged human looked at Prussia with a calm gaze in spite of the state his patient was in. "I hate to admit, but you have more experience than I do, Prussia," he said monotonously, his voice devoid of any respect even while admitting that he was facing someone far more adept at his profession than himself. "Do you think there's anything you can do for him?"  
Prussia glanced at Heydrich again. His superior was barely conscious, but the nation guessed he would be conscious enough to hear what Prussia was going to say. "Oh, I know a thing or two that might help," he answered with a shiver of delight in his voice, "but my superior here has specifically instructed me to not work as a medic anymore."  
A flash of panic in Heydrich's half-lidded eyes told Prussia that he had heard his nation indeed and that he had understood. Prussia struggled not to burst out laughing right then and there. This human was so pathetic. Hopefully he had realised his mistake now and regretted it with all his heart. Hopefully he now knew that Prussia might be able to save his life, and he had forbidden the nation from doing so himself. Hopefully he understood that he was going to die soon, and Prussia would laugh as he watched him draw his last breath.  
Gebhardt narrowed his eyes at this comment, but he said nothing. He didn't seem to disapprove of Prussia's decision, much to the albino's surprise. For a moment, the Prussian wondered what _his_ plans were, if it wasn't to do anything in his power to save his patient, even if it meant breaking the man's own rules and letting Prussia help.  
Prussia grinned. _I don't know what it is, but I think I like it…_

* * *

Days passed, and Prussia was still with Gebhardt and Heydrich despite not doing anything to help. He gave some advice here and there, but nothing really useful. He didn't make decisions about treatment, only took his superior's temperature a couple of times (and it delighted him to no end when the man developed a fever along the way) and administered some morphine once when Gebhardt was busy writing a report on his patient's condition.  
It was on 4 June that Prussia got a chance to do something useful. Heydrich had been improving steadily over the past days, little bits at a time, and in was in the afternoon of that day that he was well enough to sit up and eat a bit. It was up to Prussia to prepare his meal while Gebhardt was away for a little while.  
Prussia stirred the lukewarm porridge with a smirk on his lips once he'd finished preparing it. Completely invisible. He had crushed the leaves and seeds well, and the juices were nearly invisible in the slob. He had found some yew trees on his way here, and the sight of them had given him plenty of ideas. One such idea had been leaking juices from the poisonous plant into Heydrich's IV and let the poison flow into his veins. When he had been asked to prepare him some food upon arrival, he had been torn whether to use the seeds or the leaves, and had opted for both for a more certain death. Lastly he had crushed the berries he had collected and leaked those juices into the porridge just now, after he'd finished heating it up.  
Quickly he hid his smirk and the twinkle in his eyes as he brought it to Heydrich, who still looked pale and weak, and instead the albino looked at him with the usual disdain. He plopped the bowl down on the human's lap gracelessly, huffing angrily. "Take some advice," he sneered at him, "and take it slow with that stuff. Your stomach won't appreciate it if you eat too quickly after going empty for so many days in a row."  
Heydrich gritted his teeth for a moment. "I would thank you-"  
"Please don't even try. We don't want you _straining yourself_ , do we?"  
"I wasn't going to, if you're going to have an attitude like this."  
Prussia was silent as he watched him very carefully take a bite of the food the albino had given him, then walked over to him and slapped his hand onto his forehead. 'Slapped' being the correct term to describe the motion. He snickered as the man nearly flinched at it. "Whoops, my bad," he sneered. "You've still got a temperature, you know. Take it easy."  
Heydrich sighed softly. "If this is how you treated your 'patients' also," he told Prussia with a voice dripping with sarcasm, "then I do not regret taking your position as a medic away from you; your medical knowledge simply _astounds_ me."  
 _My knowledge?_ Prussia had to fight not to retort angrily, and instead stayed silent. _I know from just touching your skin that your body temperature is roughly 38 degrees, which is not too bad but also not good considering the rest of your body is in no state to fight off a fever right now. I also know that what you're eating right now is ruining your body further; your heartrate will quicken, you will lose control of your muscles slowly and you'll have trouble breathing fairly soon. Eventually you will collapse and your heart will stop, all due to this little wonder called taxine.  
_ "Well, suit yourself," he said dismissively as he got to his feet. "Yo, while you eat a bit, I'll need to stop by the pharmacy for a moment, 'kay? I'm nearly out of my own meds, and I can't sacrifice my own health looking after a pathetic shit like you, can I? Old Dude will be back before I am. Try not to choke while I'm away." _Try not to, but you will, anyway._ Without another word, he left the room and closed the door behind him.  
Brandenburg stood in the hallway, waiting for him, and she sighed when Prussia looked at her. "Don't you think this is going a little too far?" she asked him in a soft voice. "I agree that Heydrich is about as evil as they come, but poisoning him? Is that really the right thing to do?"  
"Of course not," Prussia answered with a shrug; he didn't care to answer only in thought right now. "The right thing to do would be saving his life, regardless of who he is, because logic says the genocide will continue whether Heydrich is around or not. After all, Himmler's still here, too." The Prussian took a deep breath and sighed softly as he walked down the hallway, Brandenburg by his side. "The thing is, I'm just not really one for morality. Never have been, and you know that. Of course I have my limits, but so long as it suits me, I don't really care much for doing 'the right thing' all the time. And his death will suit me just fine: one less superior breathing down my neck and forcing me to do some terrible, cruel stuff, one less person who will follow Hitler's word like a loyal dog. One less person to force Austria to his limits and beyond all the time, too."  
Still, Brandenburg looked unconvinced. "Think of the consequences, Prussia," she tried to reason.  
But Prussia shook his head. "It's done now, anyway. And besides, it's not like this dose is likely to kill him. Well… on its own it wouldn't, anyway." He then looked at Brandenburg and flashed her a reassuring smile. "As for the consequences, I think I'm safe: there's so much wrong with his body right now, a little poison is likely to go unnoticed. Even if they find it, they would still have to trace it back to me first. That wouldn't be too difficult, I know, but they have a lot on their minds, you know? They wouldn't bother."  
There was no doubt in Prussia's mind that he would be safe, even if he had contributed to his superior's murder. Whatever the outcome would be, though, Prussia didn't regret a thing.  
 _Someone_ had to do it eventually.

Reinhard Heydrich died that night, due to complications after being attacked a week earlier. Prussia liked to think he'd had a hand in it, too, though. The poison might not have been the killer, but maybe it had been a trigger. Either way, he was glad to see the man go. One less problem he had to deal with.  
Brandenburg had been right when she had told him to think of the consequences, naturally. Outraged over the assassination of one of his men, Hitler ordered a retribution straight away; the poor innocent citizens who had lost their lives in the aftermath weighed heavily on Prussia's conscience, even though the chances were slim that his actions had caused any of it.  
But what was done was done, and Prussia didn't regret anything he'd done, not really. He even went as far as to have a small, personal celebration over this man's death.

Hopefully life would become just a little easier with him out of the way, for Austria, perhaps for Germany, and most certainly for Prussia himself.

* * *

 **Okay, I just want to say, I read about Operation Anthropoid (the assassination) _after_ writing the previous chapter, or at least the part of the Wansee Conference at the start of it, and I just got this evil grin on my face the moment I read about it. _"Oh, Gil's going to enjoy this... He will enjoy this... So... Much..."_ **

**Also, people, stay away from yew trees. Strange enough, its berries are the only thing that aren't highly poisonous, but since they contain the poisonous seeds and touch the even more poisonous leaves, well... you know.  
Yew is eeeeviiiilllll...**

 **As for Germany's little 'revelation', by the way, they really are fighting for survival if you think about it. The nation personifications anyway. They know that if they lose, they will be punished again, likely even worse than before, and the Treaty of Versailles had come close to killing Germany and Prussia both already. The punishment for WWII is going to be worse, or at least Germany fears it will be (and let's be honest for a moment, it _is._ Most of all for Prussia, of course).**

 **Also, I have something else to say that I have not done before, or at least not often. Is there any event between June 1942 -this chapter's end- and, say, the end of 1943 (?) that you would _really_ want me to write about? I know what I plan to do from 1944 onward, but for now I still need to research a whole lot if I want to have enough material to write the next chapter. (I could skip to '44, but I don't want to... I want at least one chapter for each year, so I'll need something in '43 still)  
I can't promise that I'll use every suggestion I'll get (if I get any, that is!) but if anyone knows something that might give me a little inspiration boost, I'll be very very grateful ;)**

 **I hope you liked this chapter, and thank you for reading yet again!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Everyone, thank you so much for the suggestions you gave me to work with! It sure made searching information easier on me the past week... So really, thank you all so much for that!**

 **And also thanks to everyone who favourited, followed and/or reviewed! You're awesome!**

 **I've also got a little surprise...  
I got access to my YouTube account back, and I uploaded the Prussia-Hamilton PMV!  
Here's the link: /watch?v=eqxZWmnYOuM (copy-paste it behind the usual web-address)  
You can also search "Hetalia PMV Wait for it Prussia" -It'll be the one on top.  
(Was about time, eh?)**

 **So yeah, I hope you'll enjoy the chapter, and also the video if you'll be watching it!**

* * *

By January 1943, Germany was back form the Eastern Front, likely for a longer period of time. He wasn't in Berlin either, but rather in Königsberg, as Berlin wasn't the safest place at the time. Considering the reason Germany was at home now affected Prussia just as much, at least the two brothers were together again after months of separation.  
They were losing against the Red Army at the Eastern Front. Cities were being bombed continually. On top of all that, of course the economy was worsening due to the war by now, too. None of it was doing Germany's health any good, and although Prussia wasn't doing as bad yet, it was a good idea for him to take it easy for as long as the situation was this bad. They had just heard that Austria was on his way to Königsberg also, after he had finally collapsed one afternoon working in Auschwitz. Germany at least had been expecting that for a year now. For two days, the Austrian had been looked after by the medical staff there, but he had refused to stay at the camp any longer and had finally been sent home. Prussia was already preparing to be running around in order to look after both his brother and his cousin at the same time.  
Early in February, the German army surrendered in the Battle of Stalingrad on the Eastern Front, one of their first major losses against the Allied Forces so far. In the meantime, British and American troops were driving back the German soldiers on the North African Front also, as well as getting near to defeating the Italian army. It was getting bad.  
Even so, Prussia didn't have to do the running around he'd been preparing for until the 9th, when Vienna and Berlin were bombed on the same day, along with Munich.

The Prussian was carefully cleaning a cut on Germany's right shoulder, caused by the bombing on Munich, while the younger nation sat with his jaws clenched tightly. He tried not to show that he was in pain, but Prussia knew better of course. Attacks on one's capital hurt like hell, and Germany had to suffer through a lot of those in this war.  
Germany sighed when Prussia wrapped a bandage around his shoulder; the cut wasn't bad enough to need stitches, thankfully. "You should go to Austria," the young German said in a soft voice. "The state he's been in the past weeks, he'll need you more than I do now." Right after saying that, he drew in a sharp breath, his muscles growing tense as Berlin was hit with another bomb.  
Prussia looked at his little brother sadly, hesitating for a moment. He knew that Austria was doing worse than Germany, but the Free State struggled to let his precious brother out of sight while he was also injured and being attacked. But when Germany stared at him wordlessly, he sighed and nodded, then got to his feet. "You take it easy, Ludwig," the Prussian said gently before he left the room, glancing over his shoulder one last time to make absolutely sure that Germany would be all right without him.  
The teenager only sighed. "Just go."

Silently Prussia slipped up the stairs after that, going to the bedroom Austria was occupying. He knocked on the door first, and only got a grunt for an answer. Feeling a pang of worry, the albino immediately went in. "Are you all right?"  
Austria lay on his bed, back turned toward Prussia. He was clearly in discomfort as he lay there. "I'm okay, I guess," he answered tautly. The older nation curled up a little, clearly showing that he wanted to be alone.  
But then, when had Prussia ever taken any notice of what Austria did and didn't want? He walked over to his cousin's side and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to be gentle. "If you need help, Roderich, just tell me," he insisted carefully. "You know that I can help."  
Although Austria didn't look up, his lips twisted into a little smirk. "True; Hungary would've been dead if you hadn't been here." Finally he glanced at Prussia, his dark blue eyes dull with exhaustion and pain like they had been from the day he got to Königsberg. He didn't say a word anymore, though.  
Staring his cousin in the eyes and seeing just how bad he was doing made Prussia's chest feel tight with distress, making breathing difficult. He couldn't take that for more than a few seconds before he sat down on the edge of the bed, leant over Austria and pulled him up. Prussia held him tightly, silent, and after a moment of shock the Austrian hugged him back.  
He chuckled for a moment. "I still can't get over how much our relationship's changed," the older nation said softly, a little hoarse. "A century ago…"  
"A century ago was then," Prussia replied, holding Austria just a little tighter. "I-I said I wouldn't risk losing you, too…" His throat felt like it was on fire, and it took Prussia until he felt his eyes burning as well to realise that he was struggling not to burst into tears… for some reason. "That doesn't just apply to me not fighting you anymore, you know?" he went on, his voice quivering a little. "I don't want to _lose_ you, not you too, not in any way!" Silencing himself quickly, the Prussian took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. Austria probably couldn't use a stressed-out cousin clinging to him. Once calm, he let go of Austria and sat back a little. "Just… take care of yourself, will you?"  
Austria smiled a bit at this. "Of course I'm taking care of myself, you fool," he promised reassuringly. "Just make sure to do the same. You say you don't want to lose me. Well, the feeling is mutual."  
Those simple words knocked the breath out of Prussia again, and he looked away. At the exact same moment, Austria flinched and grunted softly, his right hand flying to his chest and gripping it tightly. Another bomb on Vienna. Biting his lip a little, Prussia hastily said: "Are you sure you don't need my help? The least I can do is bring you some water, you know. Do you want some water?"  
Austria didn't answer immediately, first taking a couple of deep breaths in an effort to ease his pain. After about a minute, he sighed, looking up at Prussia again. "Some water would be nice, yes," he croaked feebly. Then something flashed in his dark eyes, a flicker of doubt, and Prussia felt uncomfortable yet again. But then the Austrian blinked that emotion away and he lay back down. "Honestly, though, I just want to try and sleep a bit. Could you please not bother me for a few hours? I mean, well… Thank you for coming to check on me, Prussia, but I'll call you if I really need help. I promise I will. All right?"  
Unable to breathe for a moment, Prussia got up and nodded, choking out a soft 'yes' before quickly leaving the room.

As soon as he'd closed the door behind him, the Prussian gulped in air again. Standing against the door like that, he felt himself trembling, and his breathing was quick and shallow.  
Why had Austria said that? _Why_ did he have to say that, for God's sake, _why?!_ Prussia could take care of himself all he wanted, that wasn't going to prevent his cousins and his little brother and his rare few friends from losing him someday. No matter what he would do to look after himself, keep himself healthy, he was going to disappoint them all one day and leave. He would leave Germany without his last surviving sibling, who also just so happened to have raised him -basically the young nation would be an orphan by then, and it would all be because Prussia was too weak to survive.  
He had promised both Austria and Hungary countless times that he would be careful, he would be all right. He had promised Germany that he would always be there for him, that he would make sure his little brother would never be alone, would never experience true loneliness. _He was going to break all those promises._ Every single one of them.  
 _But they need me!_ he thought desperately, still struggling to breathe. _I thought I could, but I_ _ **can't**_ _leave them, not ever! Ludwig will need me during this war. He'll need me after it, too. Austria just said he doesn't want to lose me, and Hungary…_ He stepped away from the door, still shaking like a leaf, his legs wobbly underneath him. _How would Lizzie feel if I just up and left_ _ **now**_ _, of all times?_ He stumbled for a moment, gasping for breath. _I still need to make it up to Netherlands and Belgium and Luxembourg…_ Dizzy, he could only just keep himself from staggering into the wall.  
"It's all right, Prussia," a gentle, warm voice told him then. The Holy Roman Empire. "You're not dying yet, I promise. You won't have to leave anyone anytime soon."  
"Wow, really," another voice then chuckled, sounding somewhat condescending. Prussia recognised it as being Second Bavaria, although he couldn't bring himself to look up and confirm this. "So much for accepting your impending death, then."  
"Shut up, Bavaria!" Holy Rome retorted, sounding impatient with her. "It happens. When your death is slow, at least, this happens: you're afraid at first, but then you come to accept it after a while. Even then, though, you'll relapse into dreading it sometimes. It's normal." Then the dead Empire knelt down in front of Prussia, who had by then sat down against the wall, trying desperately to get his breathing back under control. Seeing his brother already eased his mind, especially when Holy Rome smiled warmly. "Really, Prussia, it's all right," he said reassuringly. "You'll live for a while yet. There's no way that you could let anyone down, I promise you. Even if you were to die today, you wouldn't be letting anyone down. Did you feel let down by me when I died? Or Brandenburg? Any of the others?"  
Unable to speak, Prussia just shook his head. He was feeling light-headed with his erratic breathing, but at least his heart wasn't pounding against his ribs anymore. Of course not. He'd been hurt, he'd been lonely, he'd been miserable, but disappointment was about the last thing he'd felt when any of his family members had died.  
Holy Rome's smile grew a little wider. "They won't be disappointed in you, little brother, they're not shallow like that. They know that you would never leave them if you had a choice. They know that you would look after them and assure their safety and well-being with your last breath. You could never disappoint anyone. Not ever."  
Prussia shook his head again, gritting his teeth. "Myself," he gasped. Somehow it only then dawned on him that he was hyperventilating. Not good. "I-I'd… let… myself down…" He wanted to help so bad. His heart ached whenever he looked at his little brother and his cousin and saw them suffering in this war. He had hoped Heydrich's death would make things a little easier on Austria as well as himself, but nothing had changed, not in the grand scheme of things. Austria was still being worked to death, almost, and Prussia was completely reliant on his blood pressure medication again, almost as much as he had been in the months after he first had his brain haemorrhage. Meanwhile, Germany was still struggling as much as ever, completely lost and unsure what to do.  
Suddenly he was aware of Brandenburg getting onto her knees in front of him after Holy Rome had moved aside to make space for her. Her calm gaze as she was staring straight at him compelled him to look up and not look away. There was a very gentle hint of a smile on her lips and her eyes began twinkling with warmth as he met her gaze. Her voice was soft and soothing when she spoke. "Breathe in, sweetheart," she told him calmly. "Breathe in deeply." It was difficult for a moment, but he managed. "Good, good. Hold that for a moment. Now breathe out slowly…"  
It took her only a minute to get Prussia's breathing to slow down again, and although he was still a bit dizzy, he smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Brand." Prussia took his time to breathe a little longer after that, until he felt his distress subside completely. Almost completely. The albino sighed deeply, feeling utterly helpless. "I need to help them, Brand," he whispered as he closed his eyes. "Somebody needs to help them. The thing is, though, that nothing I do makes any difference." Prussia looked up at Brandenburg again, then glanced at Holy Rome, Bavaria, Hesse and Hanover who were also there. "The only thing that will set things right is an end to this war. How can I do that? It's impossible."  
Silent for a moment, Prussia got to his feet and turned to the stairs. His panic attack was over now, and he had other things to do than to sit there and freak out. He had promised Austria some water, and he didn't want to stay away from Germany too long, either. Not only that, but it was probably also a good idea to take his pills a little early today, after hyperventilating and going into a complete panic. He thanked Brandenburg and Holy Rome again, then went downstairs, lost in thought.  
"How to end the war…?"

* * *

As the year progressed, Germany got increasingly anxious about the way the war was going for them. He'd felt sick when, in April, he'd heard the announcement of the discovery of a mass grave in Poland. His own government blamed the Soviet Union for it, of course, while the Soviets blamed the Nazis. It took Germany days to calm down enough to not think about it all the time. He wanted to believe his people had nothing to do with it, of course, but he honestly wasn't sure. He wouldn't put it past Hitler to do such a gruesome thing. Hell, he was doing it, just in a different way. Behind barbed wire-fences.  
Prussia assured him that the discord this discovery and the reactions of the Soviet Union sowed among the Allied Forces was in their advantage, but Germany didn't see much of that when their troops were being pushed back on the North African Front. The Italian army was losing, and they didn't seem to have the will to fight for their victory anymore, either. In May, the battle on the African Front was officially lost after the German and Italian forced surrendered.  
In June it became clear that Italy would soon be invaded, when air raids on the Mediterranean nation occurred increasingly often. Germany was sent there to speak to both personifications of the land and ensure their continued alliance.  
July was no better, when it started with a failed operation on the Eastern Front; just over a week into it, Hitler called the offensive off, but the Red Army was relentless and continued the fight even when the German army was retreating. Germany was in Rome with the Italian brothers that month, and he was also there when the Italian capital was bombed for the first time.  
It wasn't long after that before German troops entered Italy to help defend their land against the Allied invasion. Neither of the two brothers seemed to appreciate it all that much, though, and it was from that point onward that Germany felt a lot less welcome with them. Still, there wasn't much to suggest that anything bad was coming, until the end of summer, when the Italians started resisting the German occupation of their land.  
It was in October, when Germany had just returned after being within his own borders for two months, that things got really bad.

"You dare show your face here again, you Potato Bastard?" Romano snapped at him the moment he saw the younger nation. The Italian was tense and crankier than Germany had seen him all year, and that meant something.  
A little taken aback by this sudden hostility, Germany narrowed his icy blue eyes at Romano. "Obviously. I was told to discuss the matter of the uprisings with you both. Can't you try to stop them? It's about the last thing either of us can use right now." When he had first heard about them a little while ago, even Prussia had looked stressed out over it, although he hadn't said a word on the matter. Before being told to go back to Rome, Germany had avoided talking about it with his brother after that first news; Prussia had been sick throughout nearly all of September, due to the economy and the losses on the Eastern Front, mostly due to stress though, and the higher blood pressure that came with it. Germany hadn't wanted him to worry too much and make it even worse. The Prussian already had a higher dose of his medication again.  
Now, though, Germany wished his brother were here, someone who had more experience with these things, unfortunate as that may be. The German still craved clarity and guidelines that he could follow as much as when he'd been a child, and he had no idea what to do when suddenly he felt the barrel of a gun against the back of his head.  
"We could try," Veneziano said behind him. "We just don't want to. Both of us are tired of this war of yours, Germany. We've lost and we're done. Just let us make peace with our enemies and leave us alone from now on."  
Startled, Germany couldn't breathe for a moment. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stood with a gun against his head, and he certainly hadn't been in this position before with a nation personification on the other side of the weapon. He hoped Italy was just bluffing, and that he didn't have his finger on the trigger.  
That was what Germany placed his bets on when he ducked forward quickly and lashed out with a strong, backwards kick. He hit Veneziano squarely in the chest, knocking him back hard. The gun flew out of the older nations hand, and just the fact that it didn't go off when it hit the floor convinced Germany that the safety lock hadn't been undone. For just a split second, he felt bad for attacking his ally since he'd clearly not intended to truly injure him, but the German quickly shook off that guilt. His _allies_ were betraying him at the worst time possible and one of them had threatened him with a gun -his actions were completely justified.  
The blond nation didn't wait for even a second after knocking Veneziano away before he threw Romano to the floor as well. He braced himself for another attack when both Italians quickly scrambled to their feet, looking absolutely enraged and desperate at the same time. "What was that all about, Italy?!" he snapped at Veneziano then, trying to control his nerves. What was going on? What was he supposed to do? The German gritted his teeth. _I thought we were allies!_  
Romano stepped in front of Veneziano protectively, and it was only then that Germany realised the younger of the two brothers was gasping for breath, wheezing a little. Had Germany done that? Who was he kidding; of course he had. Romano looked furious, but he was trembling as he stood there.  
"We don't want to fight for you anymore!" the elder brother snarled at Germany, clenching his hands into fists. "We won't fight your war anymore, Potato Bastard!"  
Anger flared up in Germany at those words. " _My_ war?" he echoed indignantly. "Hypocrisy at its finest! _You_ started fighting before I did -you invaded nations before we did!" For a moment he was lost for words, but then he let out a low growl. "Goddammit, we're _allies!_ That's what allies do for each other!"  
"Can't you understand that we're done for?" Veneziano argued, still short of breath, his brown eyes wide with distress. "Germany, _bambino_ , we can't-!"  
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Germany startled himself with his angry roar, but he didn't hold back after it. Almost subconsciously he bunched his muscles, ready for an attack. "You still think I'm just a child, then? _Think again!_ " He lashed out fiercely, and Veneziano ducked only just in time, whimpering in fear. Germany scoffed at this. "Cowering from a _little kid,_ Veneziano?" he sneered angrily. "You goddamn weakling. The both of you! Traitors and cowards!"  
Romano didn't let that slide, but his reprisal was feeble. "What are you, then?" he snapped at the younger nation. "A weak little shit who can't fight his own wars."  
Not even half of Romano's words actually reached Germany in his panic, but the few he heard sent shivers down his spine. _Weak._ Prussia had been so sick last month. The stress was getting to him as much as it did Germany and Austria, but where it was troublesome and unhealthy for them, it was downright dangerous to Prussia. _Can't fight._ The vivid nightmare he'd once had still lay fresh in his mind, and right now they were just staring at him, two lifeless red eyes, forming a stark contrast against ghostly white skin. Prussia would suffer most from losing this war, but he was unable to fight for himself now. The Free State was completely dependent on his younger brother and his allies. _His life_ depended on them!  
 _You can't stop fighting for him…!_  
Germany gritted his teeth in rage and fear. "Do you even know what you're doing?" he asked in a low voice. "Do you have any clue what you're causing with this?" His heart beat fast. No response. He could hardly breathe. Romano glanced at his younger brother before glaring at Germany again. Brother. Prussia. _Brother. Prussia.  
NO!_  
In a wave of panic, Germany lunged for Romano, closing his fingers around his throat. In one smooth movement, he pulled the older Italian away from Veneziano, who yelped in fear then immediately begged Germany to let his brother go. Meanwhile Romano was desperately scratching his hand and wrist to make him stop, but Germany's grip didn't slacken despite the pain. Veneziano was shaking all over and had tears in his eyes. "Germany, _please,_ don't do this!" he pleaded desperately.  
But the young nation was in just as much of a panic himself. "An eye for an eye, Italy!" he yelled. "And a brother for a brother!"  
Romano's attempts to free himself were weakening quickly. Veneziano looked at him quickly and whimpered. "You're killing him, Germany!" the Italian cried out. "Let him go, please, let him go!"  
"Then stop killing _my_ brother, too!"  
" _I don't get what mean!"_  
With an angry roar, Germany flung Romano away, who crashed into his younger brother. The two Italians both fell to the floor again, and this time they made no attempt to get up. Romano was clutching his bruised neck and gasping for breath, while Veneziano was speaking frantically to him in Italian, too fast for Germany to follow. The German watched with clenched jaws and tight fists as the younger of the two Italians pulled his brother onto his lap and held him close, shushing him softly.  
After what felt like an eternity, Germany managed to force some words over his lips. "I won't let harm come to my brother any more than you will, Veneziano," he said, his voice strained. "If this is what you want, you can have it. Just know that whatever's coming, _you asked for it yourself._ " Then he quickly spun around and went out the door with quick paces, slamming it shut behind him.  
His mind reeling in panic, Germany left the city as quickly as he could.  
Days later, Italy declared war on Germany.

* * *

Germany came back to Berlin right after leaving Rome. The battles they were losing were getting to him yet again, and a new enemy didn't do him much good either. He had hoped Prussia was still there, but the albino was gone. He phoned to Königsberg, but no one picked up. The Prussian was probably out of the house at the time Germany called him. He would try again later.  
But Prussia didn't pick up the next time he called either. Or the next. Or the next.  
He was tired, he was worried, he was in pain because of the battles. He was alone, too. A month after the declaration of war from Italy, Berlin was bombed again. It was light this time, but people were still killed in the attack. Days later the city was attacked again, however, and this time the damage was significant.  
By then, Germany had still been unable to get hold of his brother, Austria was back at work, for now in the Janowska concentration camp Germany had heard; just days before, on 19 November, there had been an uprising there, and Austria had been called away to that camp in a rush.  
The young nation was in a shelter when the bombing was still going on. Thankfully there weren't many people there with him, and they were all from his own neighbourhood, so they were more familiar with how things worked for him than most other people would have been.  
One of his neighbours sat beside him there, and elderly man, and every now and then he would tell Germany to calm down a little, to take a deep breath and exhale slowly. The nation was wheezing in pain and shivering. Blood was seeping into his shirt from a cut that had appeared on his chest. The old human beside him helped him a little, but there wasn't much anyone could do.  
The young woman from across the street was watching them anxiously. Eventually she inched closer almost nervously. "Ludwig," she began -Germany had the habit of telling any neighbours to not bother calling him by his nation name- "that brother of yours, Gilbert… Is he around too?"  
Germany shook his head, unable to answer for a moment.  
The woman didn't quite look at ease with his answer. "I haven't seen him in over a month. Normally that's not too surprising, but last I saw him he wasn't looking good…"  
"I think this is not the time, Julia," the man interrupted her gently whilst giving Germany a firm pat on the shoulder. "Breathe in, Ludwig. Just breathe in deeply."  
Feeling as if he was choking, Germany nodded feebly, trying desperately to do as he was instructed to. Why had that woman mentioned Prussia now? Or that he wasn't doing well last she'd seen him? It only got Germany more worried about his brother, which in turn got his breathing even more erratic than it had been. He felt sick just then.  
"Gilbert mentioned to me once that he was heading Eastward again," another woman, who lived two houses down the road from them, then said reassuringly. "He must've gone to Königsberg. Or maybe he's gone back to work after all. He's a responsible, intelligent young man; he'll be fine wherever he is."  
Germany nodded again, gritting his teeth as he felt another jolt of pain hit his chest. He wanted to believe her. He really did. He just didn't know whether he _could_.  
If Prussia was in Königsberg, why didn't he ever answer his phone if Germany called? If he had still been sick or in any way not fit to work, why would he have gone back to work anyway? None of it made sense.  
 _Where are you, brother?_

* * *

Early in October, after Germany had just left to go to Rome, Prussia packed his things to go East. He didn't pack much: some clothes, his pills, his spare glasses. A pistol. Bullets.  
the Prussian had finally figured out a way to help his little brother and his cousin and everyone, after talking to a General who had been on prolonged sick leave in Berlin in August. The man was fiercely against Hitler, like Prussia was by now and had been for some time. They, together with the Prussian lieutenant who had helped Prussia out years before by getting him onto the medical staff, had discussed what to do about the war a few times. They had all come to the same conclusion, although the two humans preferred to work with well thought-out plans. Prussia didn't have the time for plans; this had to be done as quickly as possible.  
The only way to end the war now, was to end Hitler himself.  
Instead of going to Königsberg again, Prussia went to Wolf's Lair in East Prussia, his leader's hideout and bunker. It was no trouble getting inside; he was welcome there, albeit a little reluctantly so. It was no trouble getting close to Hitler, who had a set routine each day.  
The real trouble was getting over his nerves and just do what he had come here to do.

After a week in Wolf's Lair, Prussia finally gathered the courage. Gun hidden under his shirt, Prussia went to Hitler's office with determination fuelling him. He paused in front of the door for a moment, taking a deep breath. Then he went inside, gun drawn.  
The nation instantly aimed his leader's head. Hitler stared at him wide-eyed for just a heartbeat. Prussia moved his finger to the trigger.  
An ear-splitting bang.  
With a choked cry, Prussia dropped his gun, which clattered to the floor. He tightly clenched his bleeding left hand with his right, his teeth gritted in rage and pain. Before he could do anything, though, he was shot again, in the stomach this time. With another cry of pain, Prussia dropped to the floor. He lay trembling for a moment, agony pulsing in his belly and blood flowing out of him quickly.  
He heard Hitler mutter a soft thanks to whoever was in his office also and had shot Prussia down. Then he directed his attention at Prussia instead. "I expected as much from you," he said coldly. "From day one. I'm surprised it took you so long, to be honest. Still, I'd hoped you wouldn't be such a fool."  
Prussia scrambled up a bit, glaring at his poor excuse of a leader. "If you guessed I would do this, that means you must know you deserve it," he sneered, coughing up some blood afterward. "At least that's one good thing, then. Kudos to you, asshole."  
Hitler didn't look too impressed. "I wouldn't be so smug, if I were you," he replied in an even more icy tone than before. "I've also already planned what to do with you in a situation like this, and you know you're not going to like it." The human then nodded to whoever else was there, and Prussia heard some rummaging behind him.  
The albino craned his neck to see. He didn't immediately recognise the soldier who was there, but he did recognise the object he held in his hand.  
A syringe.  
"You see, I believe I must thank you for one thing," Hitler said calmly as the soldier approached Prussia almost menacingly. "You did, after all, tell me what was in that little 'cocktail', as you called it, that you used on Poland. I hope you don't mind we increased to dosage."  
"Prepared it the moment you showed your ugly face here," the other man added as he leant down. Prussia tried to fight him off, but with one hand in tatters and a bullet still lodged somewhere in his stomach, he didn't get very far before the human pierced his skin with the needle. It stung as the liquids were injected into his bloodstream. He struggled some more, but the sedatives worked on him quickly, combined with the blood he was still losing from being shot.  
Within minutes Prussia felt too faint to move. All the while, Hitler watched his hopeless struggle against the blood loss and the chemicals with an emotionless gaze, although triumph shone somewhere in his eyes at one point, too.  
"You're lucky I didn't do this sooner, you filth," the man told him. "I have so much reason to lock you up like the rest of your kind. You're _weak_. You're an _albino_. You're a _homosexual._ "  
" _Bi_ sexual, actually," Prussia laughed dryly, his voice croaking. "If you're going to accuse me of things, at least get your facts straight, nitwit."  
Hitler ignored his comment. "And to top it all off," he sneered, "you're a _traitor,_ too." The man got up from where he sat at his desk then, and he went to stand right beside Prussia just as the nation's consciousness began to slip away. "I know you killed Heydrich. For taking you off the medical staff, I presume? Don't worry, Prussia, you can work with doctors again." A smirk played on his lips then. "In fact, I know of one doctor who would _love_ to have a chance to work with you."  
Prussia felt sick with fear and shame and guilt. He should have made a plan after all. Given it more time. Had more patience. He should have thought this through. The one time he didn't think and plan ahead, and it had gone so extremely wrong so quickly.  
What an idiot he could be sometimes.  
Now he was doing the one thing he had never wanted to do: he was letting Germany down.  
Just as his vision turned black and his consciousness faded, one last thing echoed in his foggy mind.  
 _My precious little brother…  
…I'm so sorry._

* * *

 **This had also been a plan for, like, a year now. The last part, anyway.**

 **Prussia has a real knack for getting himself into trouble sometimes, doesn't he?  
This was just plain stupid. But hey, people do crazy things when they're desperate, and if anyone is by now, it's Prussia. And Germany, too.**

 **Aaanywaaay... It's kinda close to midnight and silly me has to work in the morning and go to school.  
Silly me shouldn't be doing this right now.  
So I'll keep it short here.**

 **Thank you for reading once again, and I hope you liked it!**


	29. Chapter 29

**So eh... I guess I have to apologise for the previous chapter?  
Going by everyone's reactions...  
Well, as you might have figured out by now, a little warning for this chapter: some slightly, err... 'intense' scenes, more so than usual.  
But! There's also this little revelation that has taken 29 chapters to be revealed. I hope it lives up to expectations.**

 **Everyone, thank you so much for the reviews, the follows and favourites!  
One little thing, which some may or may not have picked up on yet: the 'Prussian lieutenant' mentioned in the previous chapter, who also helped out Prussia a few chapters ago, _was_ Claus von Stauffenberg.** **And of course, some of you guessed 'the doctor' as well...**

 **Anyways... I hope you'll enjoy the early chapter! It's a longer one, too. Consider it an early Easter present.**

* * *

Days were a blur to Prussia after his failed attempt to assassinate Hitler. After having been knocked out with his own mixture of sedatives, the nation had awoken on a train, tied up and unable to move. He'd been gagged, too, but he had managed to get the other people who were in the train with him -Jews, he guessed, and other so-called traitors- to remove that so that he could speak. Most of the people were Polish or Czech, but he had found about a handful of Dutch and Belgian people huddled in the corner, too. Everyone kept their distance from him, and Prussia didn't even try to convince them that he was safe to be around -they could tell that he was German from his accent whichever language he spoke to them, and he could hardly blame them for being weary around him for that. He hoped his albinism didn't play a part in it also, but it wouldn't surprise him if it did.  
The camp he was sent to was Auschwitz, and as he was brought in he vaguely remembered that this was where Poland had been locked up, also. He wondered for a moment whether he would see the other nation in there, but that was the least of his worries and quickly faded to the background.  
Everyone got different symbols on their clothes: Jews got something in a star-shape, although colours could vary. Others got triangles in the same set of colours. Letters, which Prussia quickly figured out depicted nationality.  
Prussia himself got an upside-down black triangle, a red bar. No letter.  
On his first day there he already had to suffer through quite some humiliation, all of which he tried to forget as quickly as he could. The sleeping quarters were crowded and disgusting. Bunk beds, and Prussia was unlucky enough to get a bottom one, where straw and dust rained down on him throughout the night.  
No dinner. No breakfast. A bit of water in the morning and in the evening. His throat was parched constantly. It was cold, too, but the hunger and the cold could be overlooked. It was the thirst that bothered him most, followed closely by the treatment he got from the guards. He'd been told that the 'black ones' were usually only there for a short while, which he guessed meant that they were killed upon arrival or shortly after it. He wasn't, of course, being the unlucky immortal.  
It was probably his albinism that was a reason for the guards to treat him like they did. He'd heard them talk about it once, and one of them had wondered whether or not someone like him could get a sunburn even though it was nearly winter. Another guard had laughed at him for this and called him stupid; of course no one could get a sunburn in such weak light. A third one had mumbled something about it being possible after all. Not too long after that, it was particularly sunny for the season, and they decided to test it; after a struggle, because Prussia wouldn't let them do anything to him willingly, they managed to subdue the albino nation, then they stripped him and tied him up outside in the sunlight, leaving him there all day. By dusk they came to retrieve him, and the one guard who had believed Prussia really could get a sunburn had grinned when he saw the nation's skin had the slightest reddish-pink hue to it after all.  
It went on like that for a month.

Halfway through November, before dawn, guards came and dragged Prussia out of his bed. Prussia fought back, and despite being severely weakened by dehydration, malnutrition and sleep-deprivation, he even managed to knock one of the guards unconscious by kicking him head-first into a wall. He had done that whilst being restrained by another man, and a third guard immediately beat him in retaliation, snapping several ribs consecutively. No one came to Prussia's defence, although many other prisoners had been woken by the racket. Although he felt abandoned at that moment, Prussia also couldn't even begrudge the poor humans that much; they were all terrified, weak and they knew the consequences for standing up to the guards. It was being demonstrated right before their eyes.  
By the time the beating left Prussia breathless, wheezing and with blood flooding his mouth and trickling down his chin, the nation finally stopped struggling and allowed himself to be dragged away by these men. He didn't bother to ask where they were taking him. In fact, he had a fairly good guess: Hitler had mentioned a doctor, after all, something which the Prussian had only just remembered.  
His heart pounded in his throat by the time he was taken into a different building. The metallic scent of blood was overwhelming, and Prussia could hear screaming from somewhere inside. He felt sick, and the nausea only got worse and worse the longer he was inside there. When, finally, he was thrown into a room at the end of a long corridor, his stomach twisted and he felt close to throwing up.  
Tied up there, seated in a chair, scarily thin and pale and injured, was Poland. A man stood by his side, unlocking the cuffs that held the nation tied to the chair. The human pulled Poland to his feet by his neck and pushed him towards the door, where the nation almost limply fell to the floor and was then picked up by one of the guards who had taken Prussia as if he was a filthy rag. Poland looked hardly conscious throughout it all.  
The man, whom Prussia guessed was 'the doctor', then spoke to Poland. "You're free to go back to the camp now, Poland," he said calmly. "I have a replacement for you from now on."  
At this, as if woken from a trance, Poland glanced up at Prussia. His expression remained blank, but in his dull green eyes was a flash of recognition, disbelief, confusion…  
Satisfaction.  
He didn't say anything though, and for a moment Prussia wondered if he could even still speak. Everything about Poland suggested constant torture, and the Prussian felt even more sick and now also dizzy when he reminded himself that Poland was in this situation because of him and his short-sighted actions. The older nation had all the right to wish the same on Prussia, after having suffered through God only knows what for… How long had it even been? Days? Weeks? Months, maybe?  
Poland was then brought away, after which the guard who still restrained Prussia pushed the struggling albino onto the chair instead and, together with The Doctor, handcuffed him also and tied him up like Poland had been. The Doctor then sent the guard away also and went to stand in front of Prussia, arms crossed over his chest. He looked excited in a way, almost like a little kid being faced with the most amazing toy he'd ever seen. That look in his eyes sent a shiver down Prussia's spine.  
"I've been looking forward to this," he said with a shiver of delight in his voice. "You've no idea how long I've been wanting to meet you, Prussia." He bent down, face level with Prussia's, and grabbed the nation by the chin. His thumb was basically in the corner of Prussia's mouth, and the Free State had half a mind to bite down on it and not let go until he'd at least damaged it beyond repair, but he knew that it wouldn't get him anywhere. Meanwhile the human inspected him intently. "Poland was a very interesting patient," he mused as he was doing so. "The things your kind's bodies are capable of! Simply amazing. But _you_ , Prussia, you are a million times more interesting yet." He paused for a moment and went on to inspect the Prussian's eyes more closely. His own eyes shone with sheer pleasure and some strange admiration. "Not only are you an immortal and is your body capable of near-incomprehensible feats, you're also an _albino_ -which is already fairly interesting in its own right!"  
The Doctor kept on poking around Prussia some more, then after a little while he commented on the nation being a quiet one. Prussia scoffed. "I've got nothing to say to you, is all," he answered coldly, after which he coughed a little; his chest still hurt intensely, what with most of his ribcage having been damaged to some extent at least, and speaking didn't do him any good either.  
With a hum, The Doctor stepped back. "My, they messed you up already, didn't they?" He sighed, looking disappointed for just a heartbeat. "Now I'll have to wait until that's healed before I can do any of my own experiments properly… Darn it." The human was then pondering for a little while until his face lit up again. "Oh, I know…! Let me see that for a moment…" He bent down again and tore open Prussia's shirt, exposing his bruised, battered chest and midriff. Seeing this, the human mumbled to himself how perfect it was. "All broken, I presume?" Without waiting for a response, he pressed his fingers against the nation's broken and bruised ribs, one at a time, eliciting a few soft whimpers from Prussia.  
The Doctor moved away again and went to a cabinet that stood against a wall. "Now if your body is anything like Poland's," he said as he was rummaging through the shelves, "those bruises should heal within five hours at the utmost, considering the fractures will get priority in healing. Those, in turn, should be in one piece again well before nightfall, if not sooner. Then again, Poland was in quite a state when I first worked with him -I assume the overall state your body is in affects the speed with which you heal? You might be a lot quicker than him." He was quiet for a moment then, and he got a long roll of bandages out of the cabinet. Turning back to Prussia with a small smile, he announced almost happily: "Either way, I've still got time to try this before it's all too healed up!"  
Prussia figured out what he was planning to do a second before he did, and he could only just about keep himself quiet as The Doctor wrapped the bandages tightly around his battered ribcage -so tightly that he could feel his broken bones shift. The nation could hardly breathe when the human finished it up.  
"Well!" he said casually as he put the bandages that were left over away again. "Let's see how that turns out as a first. I really do wonder if your body will allow for any deformities in the healing process. Never tried it on Poland, you see, I just didn't think of that. Poland was truly fascinating too, though. Are you all able to grow back teeth? It goes even further than just teeth, to be honest with you. Were you aware that, with time, you could even grow back _bones_? Your bodies are the most amazing natural mechanisms I've ever come across."  
Prussia already wasn't listening anymore. He sat there with his eyes closed and his jaws clenched tightly, wondering how long this was going to last still. Just a few minutes down, and he already wanted out more than anything. It was not so much the agony in his chest that was the worst, but rather knowing that this was only the beginning, and a spur-of-the-moment action at that; whatever The Doctor had spent time planning beforehand would no doubt be a million times worse yet.  
"You and I are going to have so much fun together, Prussia…"

* * *

Germany felt faint and tired as he sat on a couch in Hungary's home. He had gone there when Berlin became too dangerous yet again, and his own condition prevented him from going back to the Front or even being on his own. The teenager was shaking with cold and exhaustion -he had hardly slept since losing contact with his elder brother. Prussia hadn't written a response to the letters Germany had sent him yet, either, aside from not picking up his phone. He was probably not in Königsberg, but then where was he? The question kept Germany awake at night all the time.  
Hungary sat beside him, watching the younger nation with a worried gaze. They'd sat like that for who knows how long before she finally broke the silence with a deep sigh. "Ludwig, sweetie, talk to me," she pleaded with him, shoving a little closer and putting a hand on his shoulder. "What is going on? Are you in pain -is there another bombing?" Germany said nothing, but he stifled a sigh. Hungary insisted. "Is it about Prussia, then? Oh, sweetie, I'm sure he's all right. Somehow… he always seems to be all right in spite of everything…" Germany still didn't answer, and Hungary pulled him into a hug then. Germany could tell that she was getting desperate, and he felt sorry for her then. "Please, _please_ talk to me," she begged him softly.  
But Germany shook his head. "What is there to talk about that you don't already know?" he replied stiffly, voice strained. "The war is only getting worse, we've lost an ally -two in fact- and gained enemies, Berlin is being destroyed raid by raid and innocent civilians are dying. The very moment that Austria looked fairly okay again, he was sent away once more. Prussia was doing anything but well, and now he is nowhere to be found. You _know_ all this."  
Hungary didn't respond for a moment, then she tightened her grip on the younger nation. "That doesn't mean we can't talk about it," she told him in a whisper, obviously trying to sound calm and reassuring, but her own emotions were too strong for her to hide. "I know the facts, Ludwig, I do. What I want you to talk about is how you feel about it all. That's the one thing you haven't told me in all these years that the war's been going on." She told him to be honest about his feelings, even if just for a moment, when he shook his head and refused.  
Meanwhile Germany was only getting more and more tense. "You don't want to know how I feel, Hungary," he warned her carefully. "You really don't."  
"I really _do_ ," the woman only insisted, sounding utterly determined to talk.  
Feeling his heartbeat speed up with worry and fear and uncertainty, the young German gritted his teeth. _You asked for it yourself, Hungary…!_ "I'm furious," he began, his voice even and controlled. "Because of what the Italies did. They betrayed us, their allies, and now they've even turned on us, too!" He clenched his hands into fists, paused for a moment. He pushed Hungary away then, grateful when she didn't try to stop him or hug him again. "It infuriates me to no end that they just _quit_ on us! Don't they get that _none of us_ want to fight any more than they do? As if I'm celebrating this godforsaken war!" He yelled the last part, and then he quickly silenced himself. Shaking with tension all over, Germany reached for the cup of coffee Hungary had made earlier, which he had only drunk a few sips from so far. He tried to drink a little bit more and calm himself down again, but he couldn't, and his grip on the cup only tightened until he feared he would shatter it in his hands.  
Hungary suddenly very lightly touched his arm, telling him in a soft voice: "Go on, sweetie. Throw it, break it, whatever you feel you need to. That can all be cleaned up. It's more important that you let it out for once." She sounded absolutely fine with it.  
Even so, Germany shook his head yet again, although he couldn't even force any words over his lips anymore. He was nearly choking on them, the words he couldn't bring himself to speak. _How come_ _ **they**_ _get to quit, while we have no choice but to keep on fighting this pointless war?_ It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. How Germany and Prussia would get the blame for all this while they both wished for it all to end as much as anyone. How they had been forced into this by some madman, just when things had been looking up again due to that same madman's actions. Hitler had shown them hope, held it right above their heads, just out of reach, and had then crushed it in his iron fist and trampled its remains.  
Why did no one ever speak the truth? 'We'll help you.' That was what the Americans said when they gave their financial support in the 20s, which had dragged the German economy further down into the abyss in the end. It was what the Nazis had promised, right before plunging them back into war and chaos and destruction. It was what the Italians had told them, mere years before betraying them and declaring war on their own allies.  
Everyone had lied to them. Everyone _always_ lied to them.  
Germany got up suddenly, pacing away from the couch and out of Hungary's reach. Then he stopped. Turned. Paced again.  
He ended up shattering the cup against a wall after all, screaming in rage as he did so.  
"I'M SO _SICK_ OF IT ALL!" he roared, putting all his anger and despair into those words. Trembling all over, the young nation ranted loudly. " _Fuck_ Italy, both of them! _I_ want to stop fighting, too! I want this war to end, I want it to have never even started in the first place! I want Austria to be all right, playing music and composing new pieces and baking stuff and everything else he used to do and love! I want Prussia to just be home, to be all right, to be happy, healthy, _here…_ " He gulped in air, as he hadn't breathed at all while speaking. And then he struggled to breathe yet again. His eyes and throat were ablaze with tears and panic and pain. He was unable to move for a moment, then stumbled against a wall and slid to the floor, only one thing on his mind anymore now. "I want Prussia…"  
Hungary seemed to hesitate for only a short moment, then got to her feet and went in a straight line to Germany and knelt down in front of him. Without saying a word, the young woman hugged him again, holding him close. "I want that too, sweetie," she whispered to him. "All of that."  
Germany couldn't stop himself from crying then. He felt stupid for it, weak, pathetic, as if he really was the little kid some people still treated him as, but he honestly couldn't stop himself. He would do anything, he would give up everything he had and everything he was, if only he could have Prussia again. In an almost childlike manner, he wanted his big brother so badly it hurt. All he wanted, all he _needed_ , was to know that his brother was all right and to have him here right now.  
 _Please let him be okay, wherever he is…_

* * *

Austria sighed deeply before stepping outside. Another day at work, another day he wanted to end. If only there was a way to stop all this, or even if he could just find a way to show these poor people that he didn't mean for any of this to happen to them.  
It was early December and although there at least wasn't any snow yet, it was cold. Austria's uniform kept him mostly warm, but he could tell that the prisoners, who weren't so lucky of course, were almost freezing.  
The trouble in Janowska had been settled pretty quickly, and his shift in Sobibor had thankfully ended early also. He had hoped to be able to take a break before taking his shift in Auschwitz, but naturally he hadn't been so lucky. Now that he was here, though, he had heard one piece of news that came as a relief to him: Poland had been let out of the medical ward, where he had been a 'guest' to the Angel of Death of Auschwitz, Dr Josef Mengele. Poland had been there since weeks after the man had been appointed head of medical staff in August.  
It took Austria a little while to locate Poland outside, and it took him even longer to be able to casually approach him without raising suspicion. They'd done this a few times before; Austria would strike up small conversations with Poland or just give him small signs of encouragement and reassurance, if only to keep him sane. Every now and then he managed to sneak him some food, and even though Austria knew very well that it couldn't help save the other nation from starvation, he liked to think it helped just a little. Poland at least seemed to appreciate it.  
The imprisoned nation looked surprised to see Austria, but the careful twinkle in his eyes told the other that he was grateful for his presence, also. "The only face I like to see around here," Poland greeted him, his voice hoarse and raspy. "Though I must say, you look as much like shit as ever. I thought you had time off earlier this year?"  
"I did," Austria answered with a sigh. "And the effects have been nullified within a month after starting work again. Oh well. How are you now? I heard Mengele released you some time ago, and, well… here's proof of that." He cracked a tiny smile. "I'm glad you're out of there, Poland."  
For some reason, Poland's expression darkened. "I wouldn't be so glad if I were you," he said in a hushed voice, gaze darting around to check if anyone was near enough to hear them. When he seemed assured that they could talk in private, he went on: "I was only allowed to go because that freak got a replacement. This one he intends to kill. He's told me all about it in the week before he let me go."  
Austria felt his heart skip a beat. "Who?" he breathed, dreading what the answer might be. France? Netherlands or Belgium? Another nation?  
The answer took his breath away. "Prussia."  
Immediately it was as if a crevice opened up beneath Austria and he stumbled. The world was spinning around him as his thoughts went around like a whirlwind inside his head. Prussia? How had that happened? More importantly, why had it happened? What was Hitler thinking, imprisoning his own nation? What had Prussia been thinking, doing something that got him in this position? Actually, Austria wouldn't have put it past Hitler to lock the Prussian away even without proper reason. What were the reasons he'd made up, though?  
A wave of nausea hit the Austrian when he remembered just how careless he had been himself. The symbols Poland was made to wear were a pink triangle with a P on it and a red bar: homosexual, Polish, enemy of the state. Two of the three were true, but the third was a lie. Still, it showed that it wasn't uncommon for Hitler to make things up just to get rid of his enemies.  
Maybe Prussia had been locked away as a homosexual, too. Austria had once or twice warned Hitler against comparing himself to Frederick the Great in Prussia's presence, because ' _he loved that man_ '.  
Or was it his albinism? His attitude? Maybe something had happened to him, for which Hitler declared the nation 'useless' and disposed of him?  
"I must get him out of there," Austria choked out, more to himself than to Poland. "I don't know how, but I will. By God, I will. A-and you too." He'd made up his mind at that moment. Both Poland and Prussia were not going to be imprisoned here much longer. One way or the other, he would get them out of this hellhole. And he would leave, too. _I can't work for a maniac who would lock up his own nations!_  
Poland shattered his hope, however. Brutally. "You won't," he said bluntly, looking away for a moment. "He's dead." Austria's knees buckled at those words, and Poland knelt down in front of him, difficult as that was with his weakened, thin body. The blond nation shook his head as Austria protested, saying that humans couldn't kill nations, they couldn't. "That sick bastard has been bragging about knowing a way," Poland told him in response. "He told me about it, said something about that it had been done before, more than once." He paused, thinking hard. "Uh… He was waving these papers around. Documents. From the government's archives, he said, I think…? E-either way, these papers were _old_ -yellowish-brown, torn here and there."  
Hearing this, a dark realisation hit Austria, darker than anything he'd ever felt, and he began to shiver with dread and he couldn't breathe. Poland must have been thinking the same thing, because ever so nervously he echoed the other nation's thoughts. "I-I don't want to say this," he began in a hoarse whisper, "but I think… If these documents came from the German government, and they're old like that and they're… about humans killing nations… Then I think they…"  
Austria only nodded mutely, his eyes overflowing with tears.  
"I know."

* * *

"So shall I read another one to you now, or do you want to wait?"  
"S-s… s-stop i-it…"  
"I'll take that as a 'now', then."  
Prussia shook his head, unable to speak anymore through the sobs that racked his body. Just that morning, The Doctor, who had eventually introduced himself as Mengele, had gotten bored of torturing Prussia physically, saying that it was amazing how high his pain threshold was, but that the experiments were lacking variety after a month. Instead he had decided to try psychological torture.  
By reading reports to Prussia on how each and every one of his siblings and cousins were brutally slaughtered as guinea pigs in a government experiment.  
It had started out much like Austria and Prussia had thought after some years of confusion and distress: the government had figured that, with the German Empire having a separate personification now, personifications for each separate state were unnecessary and would overcomplicate things. But never in his wildest dreams and his worst nightmares had Prussia believed that the killers were _humans_. People not unlike the man pacing around in front of Prussia now, reading a report of the experiments out loud to the tied-up nation.  
The first 'story' Mengele read to Prussia was how the experiments had started: Nassau had been caught in an accident that had left him too injured to heal, and he died that same day, in hospital. One of the surgeons there found this fact interesting, as he had believed, like anyone else, that nations were fully immortal unless faced with another nation. Autopsy had showed that the accident had left Nassau's neck broken in such a way that he might as well have been decapitated, had it not been for his skin being mostly undamaged and keeping everything together.  
They rounded up Brunswick and snapped her neck. She survived that, although it left her paralysed for over a day. Next they decapitated her.  
That proved to be enough.  
To prove their hypothesis -'decapitation can kill a nation regardless of the attacker'- they performed the same brutal murder on Mecklenburg and Hannover. Hesse had been given a different treatment, along with Württemberg: they had been cut in half under the ribcage. Baden, Bavaria and all the others had been killed in similar ways, although Mengele hadn't told Prussia about them yet.  
The only good thing about the complete despair that Prussia was feeling at that moment was that it was hard to hear Mengele over his own crying. He couldn't take this anymore; the reports went into great detail, and The Doctor didn't skip a single word. Sometimes he added his own comments to it, which would generally only make Prussia feel sick to the bone. This man was by far the most sick-minded person he had ever come across.  
Eventually the talking stopped, and there was a silence for a moment, safe for Prussia's sobbing. Then a sigh. "You're not listening anymore, are you?" Mengele put the stack of papers onto his desk with an annoyed look on his face. "Well, that's enough for today, then. What's the point of it if you cannot hear me, after all? Besides, I do still have other patients to tend to, also." He walked back to Prussia then, leaning over him and inspecting him once again. "You know," he mused as he was doing so, "as unbreakable as you are physically, mentally speaking, _you're so fragile._ Just a few hours and you already seem pretty broken to me. Interesting." Next he grabbed Prussia's left hand, opened the cuff around his wrist, and lifted the nation's arm to inspect it more closely. "Let's see that finger of yours, shall we?"  
The Doctor had chopped off Prussia's left index finger some two weeks ago, in order to see if Prussia really would heal more quickly than Poland did due to being healthier and stronger still. It was also to prove to the nation that they really _could_ regrow bones, after Prussia had declared him insane for his theory. Much to the albino's own surprise, his finger really _was_ growing back, although the process was achingly slow. Mengele had told him it had taken Poland two months to have his finger back and also back to normal, but so far Prussia was indeed faster than the older nation; little more than two weeks had passed and he already had a stump about as far as the first joint -his finger had been cut off from the knuckle.  
He didn't feel anything as Mengele poked a needle into it, though. And if the fact that the needle went in at the top and out at the bottom was anything to go by, his bone hadn't grown back as far as his flesh had done so far. The lack of nerves as of yet came as a relief to the nation. The less he felt, the better. That was the one lesson he had learnt over the past month.  
Suddenly Prussia's head was jerked upward as The Doctor pulled his chin up, forcing the nation to look at him. He scowled. "For God's sake, Prussia, stop crying already," he scolded him, almost as if he were reprimanding a little child for whining over nonsensical things in ways only little children could. "I can't see your eyes very well if you don't stop that pathetic sniffling, now can I?" He waited for a moment, but Prussia couldn't silence himself even if he'd wanted to. Agitated, the human slapped him in the face. Hard. "Shut up, I said!" he bellowed. Then he grabbed the nation's face and pried open his left eye. "How's your sight now, hm? Gotten any better yet?"  
Thankfully his sight had restored again indeed. He still remembered his terror when The Doctor held a needle just millimetres from his eyes. The syringe had been filled with a clear blue liquid. "Did you know that you actually don't have red eyes?" That was what Mengele had told him. "Your irises are as colourless as the rest of you. It's your blood that causes your eyes to appear red: your blood vessels show through due to the lack of pigment in your eyes. Light will make this effect more visible, of course. In pure darkness your eyes _would_ look colourless, I believe, but then, it would be impossible to see." He'd dangled the syringe in front of the terrified Prussian's face for a moment then. "I've already experimented with _changing_ eye colours," the human had said in a low, menacing voice. "Now I'd like to see if I can _create_ an artificial eye colour, and who better to use than my favourite albino?"  
Despite everything Mengele had done, he had only rarely caused Prussia agony intense enough to make him scream. When the needle pierced his eye and the blue chemicals were injected into it, seemingly burning his eye away, Prussia had been shrieking.  
"Still some blue left in it… Not much though," Mengele concluded flatly. He went to his desk without another word, made some notes, then left, but not before pulling three of Prussia's teeth -he was still fascinated every time they grew back. That, and he liked to hurt the nation as much as he could.

As always, it came as a relief to Prussia to be alone again now. This time, though, he felt absolutely sick. Everything he had just been told had horrified him to no end, and the blood that was seeping into his stomach from his mouth didn't help either, of course.  
He couldn't help but picture poor Brunswick lying, paralysed, on the floor with a broken neck. Then, days later, being decapitated. How long must it have taken to cut Hesse and Württemberg in half? People weren't exactly easy to slice through, especially not the bone. What agony and fear they must've suffered.  
"Oh, Prussia," Hannover sighed. The Prussian's elder brother stood right in front of him, looking down at him with pity in his gaze. "It's okay, really. Yes, it hurt. Yes, we were scared, all of us. But you know what? It was over in the blink of an eye, too."  
Those words shattered the last shreds of hope Prussia had that the documents had been fake. "I-it was all true…?" he choked out, spluttering a little because of the blood in his mouth. His stomach twisted as he saw images of his siblings and his cousins being slaughtered like cattle. Less than cattle, even. Vermin. Tears flooded his eyes again and he couldn't breathe in. "A-all of it… w-was real…?" In his desperate struggle to breathe, he found himself hyperventilating once again. That seemed to happen more and more often these days, even before he had been introduced to The Doctor. "Oh God… I-it was my fault… I-I caused it… My fault…" Austria had been right all those years ago, after all. This had all happened because of Germany.  
Germany had happened because of Prussia.  
 _I killed them all…!_  
Brandenburg was trying to shush him, Hesse was telling him that he wasn't to blame, Bavaria promised that he didn't hold Prussia responsible for his death, either. Prussia didn't believe them. He was still in a panic, and at one point he managed to gulp in air, finally, but breathed in his own blood, too. His stomach was still churning, and when he coughed after inhaling blood, it soon turned into retching. Blood splattered down onto his legs, soaking into the rags that were supposed to be trousers.  
"It's all right, Prussia." _No it's not._ "Don't worry, Prussia, just… hush. Breathe." _I can't, I can't!_ "Try to calm down, sweetheart. Please." _I'm trying, I'm_ _ **trying**_ _, but I_ _ **can't!**_  
"Calm down, son."  
Those words silenced Prussia in a heartbeat. Astonished and wide-eyed, he looked up.  
A tall, broad-shouldered man with long blond hair stood in front of him. His siblings had moved aside to make space for him, even Brandenburg, although she still stood right beside him. His pale blue eyes were almost emotionless, but at the same time his gaze was calm, warm. Soothing.  
Prussia could feel his heartbeat slow down, his nerves ease up, and a certain, strange warmth filled his chest. "…Dad…?"  
Germania nodded calmly, and his lips twitched into the tiniest, but somehow reassuring, smile. He got down on one knee in front of Prussia, looking him in the eyes. His calm voice and expression were almost contagious, it seemed, for the Prussian felt himself gradually growing completely calm and at ease again, also. Germania's voice was gentle as he spoke, even though his words were blunt and even a little on the harsh side. "Man up, Prussia," he told his son. "That man is supposed to kill you, but you know as well as I do that if he really intended to kill you straight away, he would have done so long ago. He is sick, Prussia. Twisted and evil. He does mean to kill you eventually, but not yet." The ancient nation was quiet for a moment, sighing softly before continuing. "To him, son, you're not his victim; you're his _toy._ And toys aren't thrown out until they're broken beyond repair, do you realise?" His icy blue gaze, which was so much like Holy Rome's had been and like Germany's now was, hardened on his next words. "So don't you let yourself be broken, Prussia. Promise me. So long as you're still interesting to him, he won't kill you. Don't let that man break you, and you will survive. Do you understand?"  
For a moment Prussia was dumbfounded, too stunned to respond. His father was here, talking to him. Of all the family members he'd had conversations with again over the past decade, his father had never been among them. Germania only showed up if he meant business. The situation had to be very serious for him to meddle in it. Like now.  
Then his father's words began to sink in, and Prussia realised how true those words were: Mengele enjoyed messing with him far too much to let it end anytime soon. Prussia guessed the man had been ordered to dispose of Prussia as soon as possible, and Germania's words had made him only more certain of that. Only he hadn't. The Doctor liked playing around with his patients like a cat did its prey. He would kill Prussia eventually, but only after the game stopped being interesting and fun to him.  
 _The Black Eagle never loses._  
Determination running through every inch of his battered, weakened body, Prussia nodded.  
He would win this game in the end.

* * *

Austria spent his days trying to get Poland back on his feet a little. He would save part of his own meals and hand it to Poland each day if he got the chance. The nation would need to regain some strength if he were to escape.  
Austria had made up his mind on that: whether Prussia was alive or dead, Poland at least would be free before February. Austria would have set his personal deadline sooner if that had been realistic in any way, but after years of imprisonment, the Pole would need at least that much time to gain the strength to even be able to get out. Thankfully there was an upside to his pitiful state: the rags that Poland wore were so loose on his thin body, it was hardly even noticeable when he finally began to gain some weight again, however slowly, after receiving food from Austria.  
That was his only goal now. Nothing else mattered to Austria anymore. If freeing Poland from this prison was the only good thing he would achieve in this war, then he would be proud of at least that, though he felt ashamed, too. He could have thought of this sooner, but he had been too scared of what the consequences might be. He didn't want to risk it before, but hearing that Prussia had been locked up here also had been the final straw. When he heard that there was hardly any hope that his cousin was still alive, he had considered giving up for a short while, but he knew he couldn't do that to Poland. One nation had been killed in this war, and one was already one too many.  
Still, part of Austria didn't believe that Prussia was dead. Or didn't want to believe it, at least. Poland told him time and time again to not count on it, but he couldn't bring himself to accept that his cousin was gone. He had to be alive somehow. Prussia was the most immortal of them all, he had proven as much a million times over in the past. Even his birth had been proof of how unique he was; the strongest among nations, to represent an Order of Knights before they had even established a state for themselves. It was clear that he had inherited Old Prussia's territory from day one, but he had been born ahead of his time. Premature baby, in human terms. Despite that, he had grown into one of the strongest nations in the world. He had survived the impossible more than once.  
There was no way that Prussia was dead. He couldn't be.  
Nearly all the time that he had to himself, Austria would spend in his office, trying to finish and perfect his plan for busting out Poland and, if possible, Prussia. He didn't write a single word down of his plans, afraid that someone might find it, but it was difficult to keep track sometimes, keeping it all in his head.

It felt like centuries had passed before the new year came, yet it also felt as if the weeks had passed him by in the blink of an eye. Austria received new orders by that time: his shift in Auschwitz was to end at the start of March.  
This more definitive deadline to his 'project' drove him to work harder, and he had finalised his plans before the 10th of January. It was lucky that this left some room, however little, for some last-minute adjustments.  
Mere days later, listening in on a conversation between two guards, one of which had been positioned in the medical ward until the day before, Austria finally got the confirmation that he had been longing for.  
All he had to do now was to find a way into the medical ward, either in plain sight without raising suspicion, or sneaking in like a thief. He didn't care _how_ he would have to do it, but do it he would. This tiny bit of good news had given the nation the determination he needed to finally put his plans into action. No matter what, he had to succeed, and if Poland had been a good motivation to fight for this, then Prussia was the best of all.  
 _My little cousin…  
You're alive…!_

* * *

 **Roderich to the rescue!**

 **So eh, yeah... I'm sorry for the non-happy chapter. The tenth in a row or so. Or... 29th...  
Uh...  
I swear not everything will be sad! There will be funny or sweet things too and.. and...  
And spin-offs! There will be spin-offs!  
(I'll make it up, I swear!)**

 **Now about the 'how to kill nations'... I figured decapitation or being split in half are plausible ways for even humans to kills nations. They can heal many things, they can even grow back bones even if it takes them a while to do so...  
But to grow back a head? Or the other way around, to be only a head and grow a new body?  
I'm afraid that's not how it works. (Good thing none of them have ended up under a guillotine!)**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter or... whatever one does with chapters like these... and thank you so much for reading yet again!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Apologies once again for the previous chapter. I hope this one will make up for it, although it isn't angst-free, naturally.**

 **Thanks for all the great feedback, people! I think, review-wise, chapter 29 must have been my most well-received one so far (despite the fact that none of you seemed to _enjoy_ the emotional trainwreck in the most conventional sense of the word). Seriously, though, I was just literally squealing in joy reading all that positive feedback... you're all too kind on me!**

 **Now a few things I want to mention. _Zeivira_ , you were really close with that little monologue of Austria's ;) Close, but not quite. I was this close to changing the scene I had written down and using that, though (whilst giving you credit, naturally!). Also a response to your comment on the CYH&HtD PMV: no, it's not a spoiler ;) The end of the video is where it strays from how the book will be, just because this fit better in video format. I've said it before and I will say it again: the ending of Hope to Die may be bittersweet, but it _will_ be sweet most of all, I promise. I've been planning it before I even finished Cross Your Heart.  
Also, yes, Poland is too good for his own good. Mind you, he hates Prussia's guts, but he wouldn't wish a day with Mengele even on him. That, and he was doing it for Austria's sake, too, considering Austria has been working his hardest to make life bearable for Poland in Auschwitz.**

 ** _Still A Lover Of Franchises_ : reattaching the heads might work if it is very skillfully done and very quickly, too, but think of it as a heart transplant for humans: it needs to be done within a certain time limit before everything dies off. A nation body heals incredibly quickly, which is why it can survive many things, and it's also built to withstand many more things than humans can (as will become apparent once more in this chapter). Cutting off one's head or slicing them in half take too long to heal even for a nation, though, and will mostly, if not always, result in death. They will simply bleed out.  
It's not impossible, though, under the right circumstances ;)**

 _ **animika123:**_ **one of the 'happy times' I'm working on is a little AU discussed in an earlier AN... The 'what if Brand survived?' and 'let's make a little Berlin character and make her Brand and Prussia's daughter!' one. Progress is slow, I'll admit, but it's there! That, and the Cold War section of this fic won't be all horror and angst and pain... not all of it (laughs).  
No, seriously. There will be recovery time for the characters.  
**

 **Everyone, once again, thank you so so much for brightening up my days with all your lovely comments!  
I hope you'll like this chapter.**

* * *

It was early one morning in February, an hour before dawn, when Austria stood strapping his own folded clothing to Poland's body with belts. The blond nation let him do so without a word, but when Austria was done and stepped away, he sighed.  
"Are you really certain that this is fail-proof?" the Pole asked, looking a little sceptical.  
Austria handed Poland one of his black trousers, his jet-black overcoat hanging over the back of a chair beside him. "Fail-proof?" he echoed with a hint of dry laughter in his voice. "Hardly. But trust me when I say that it is as close to being fail-proof as we can get."  
Poland still looked doubtful when he next put on the overcoat. Austria, on the other hand, watched approvingly: Poland looked fairly healthy, with the clothes packed under his overcoat -it gave the impression that he was thin, but not half-starved and skinny as he was. The Austrian next handed him gloves to hide his twig-thin fingers and callused hands, and lastly a cap to hide at least half his face if he looked down just a little.  
"I would only know it's you if I looked at you for longer than a few seconds," Austria assured him when Poland yet again expressed his doubts about the plan. "Now let's go, and don't speak unless you absolutely have to."  
Poland sighed deeply. "Fine. Though I'm still not happy about having to get that annoying Prussian, too." Even though he said that, Austria was certain that it was a lie; Poland hated Prussia with a passion, that was obvious, but clearly he struggled to wish imprisonment in Mengele's medical ward even on his greatest enemy. Right now he was just being rebellious.  
Making sure one last time that they both knew what the plan was to the last detail, the two nations set out on their rescue mission.

Austria had barely slept that night, making sure he had an escape route once they got Prussia, but even so, he hadn't felt this awake in ages. He had figured that getting into the medical ward was nothing difficult, even though he normally had no business there at all. It was the sneaking out with a prisoner part that would proof more of a challenge.  
The Austrian just walked up to the guard standing at the door, who looked at him with a hint of surprise. "Sir?" he asked flatly, in a way that clearly said the words he was either too confused or too lazy to say; 'what are you doing here?'  
Austria gave him the same blank stare he got from the human. "Getting some of my old function back," he said casually. "Himmler told me he would like to know exactly what is going on in this place, and I'm to file a report on it by the end of the week." When the human didn't react, the nation sighed. "And I'll start with a long section on the incompetence of the people stationed here, unless you're going to change your mind."  
The human still looked doubtful, but he'd been working in Auschwitz almost as long as Austria had and clearly remembered the time when the nation would do inspections frequently. Silently he stepped aside and let Austria and Poland through; it had, after all, never been too uncommon for Austria to work with someone on the inspections, too.  
Poland shivered as they entered the building, looking a little pale and sickly all of a sudden, a haunted look in his green eyes. "Let's get this over with as quickly as we can," he said in a hoarse whisper. "I never wanted to go in here again."  
"I know," Austria answered apologetically. "This was the only way that would work. It's much easier taking you here and then leaving together than it would be to haul Prussia through camp to get to you. I don't even want to know the state he's in."  
Both nations nearly jumped at the sound of an agonised screech coming from somewhere in the building. Austria stood rigid after hearing it, his heart beating fast. Beside him, Poland held his breath for a moment, then he sighed. "Well, that sounded familiar," he muttered, half to himself. "I think I can guess what state he's in, to be honest."  
"You know where he is," Austria said impatiently, his stomach twisting as he could hear his cousin scream yet again, the sound of his voice echoing through the halls. "Let's not waste time and just _go_! We need to get him out of there."  
But Poland shook his head, fear in his eyes. "If Prussia's screaming like that, then Mengele's with him for sure. It's safer to wait until he's quiet and there's a better chance of getting him out without anyone noticing. _Trust me,_ " he added when Austria looked like he was going to protest to this. "For once, I don't like it either, I swear. But you know what I would like even less? Having to face that demon doctor ever again."  
Much as he hated to admit it, Austria knew that Poland was right. So they waited. It felt like centuries passed as the two waited for their chance, and with every shriek he heard coming from his cousin, Austria felt more and more determined to get him out of this wretched place. It was sickening to listen to; he couldn't remember even having heard Prussia so much as complain about pain, and here he was, sounding as if he was tearing his lungs and throat to shreds with his screaming.

In the end it must have been minutes before Poland and Austria had to quickly hide around the corner of one hallway, as people were approaching them. Once man telling another to prepare a bath with boiling water.  
Austria shivered as he automatically imagined what that might be used for, but Poland whimpered beside him when the people had passed them. "That was him," the blond nation breathed in horror, his green eyes wide. "That was Mengele."  
Austria blinked at him in confusion. "But… Prussia is still…"  
Poland shook his head. "But Mengele's not there right now! Let's get that albino shit and get the hell out of here, _please!_ " Without waiting for an answer, he went ahead, pulling Austria along with him. The Austrian was glad when he noticed that, though in a hurry to get this done and get out of this place again, Poland was still being careful, not dashing around corners and stopping every few seconds to check for guards. Naturally, Austria himself was on high guard too, making sure they wouldn't be caught.  
Meanwhile, as Austria followed Poland, he heard Prussia's screaming die down quickly until he couldn't hear the younger nation's voice at all anymore. There were other voices in the building, shrieking in pain much like Prussia had done. Austria hadn't noticed them much, having been completely focused on his cousin earlier. His stomach twisted as he couldn't help but imagine what was going on behind the doors they passed.  
Suddenly Poland halted in front of a door, shaking like a leaf as he stood there, staring at it. Austria only thanked him in a whisper, knowing full well that the other nation no doubt was reliving some terrible memories right then and there. Quickly the Austrian then pressed his ear against the door, hoping to pick up whether or not there was anyone else in there. He did hear whimpering, moaning, a few choked-up sobs. No other voice, no footsteps. It took him no more than a few seconds to be certain that the person he was hearing was Prussia, and he felt conflicted over it: on the one hand, hearing his cousin filled him with a sense of relief like he hadn't known for months, if not years. At the same time, however, hearing someone as strong as Prussia crying and whimpering made him shiver with dread.  
Austria took a deep breath then, glanced around one last time, then opened the door.

Prussia sat tied to a chair, feet bound with leather belts, wrists with metal cuffs. The albino sat hunched over as much as was possible, it seemed, greasy white hair hanging in front of his face and hiding that from view. The thin, battered nation was shaking all over, crying softly but desperately and clearly in agony. He was bruised in several places, his clothing was torn and dirty. There was dried blood on the floor, on his clothing, in his hair. The needle in his arm and the tube that was connected to it were among the first things that Austria noticed, though, and the nation got dizzy looking at the bag with liquid that hung from a pole standing next to Prussia. What could possibly be in that IV? It certainly wasn't sedatives or medication of any kind, that was for sure.  
Tentatively Austria approached his cousin, followed a few steps by Poland, but not all the way. The sight of Prussia and the sound of his whimpers were heart wrenching, and Austria felt like there was concrete in his feet the last few steps, weighing him down. Still, he didn't hesitate a moment to kneel down in front of the tortured nation, looking up at him from his position on the floor. Both of Prussia's cheeks were swollen and bruised. With a soft sigh, Austria whispered to him softly. "Prussia," he began carefully. "Prussia, it's me."  
The albino didn't seem to realise just who was talking to him, for he flinched and whimpered like a dog being beaten with a cane. "Leave m' 'lone…" he cried softly. "Please… please… Jus' leave me 'lone…"  
Austria shushed him quickly, placing his left hand over Prussia's right one. "Hush, Prussia, it's okay. It's me, it's Austria. It's okay now. I'll get you out of here, all right? It's over now." He saw his cousin gradually calming down, listening to his voice and realising that he wouldn't receive more torture now. When he thought it was all right, Austria got up for just a moment and gave Prussia a very quick, careful hug.  
Prussia only whimpered again, though. "…G'… out…" he choked out softly, his voice barely any louder than a whisper. "…Get… out…" Confused, Austria stared at him for a moment. Was Prussia telling him to leave? But no, he wasn't. It dawned on Austria just milliseconds before Prussia managed to be more clear. "Get it… _out_ of me…!"  
Swallowing hard, Austria turned his gaze to the IV in Prussia's arm again. He'd forgotten about that in his sheer relief and with his attempts to get Prussia more at ease. "S-sure," he answered with a quivering voice. "I'll take it out, don't worry. Just hold on for a moment, Gilbert, it'll be over in a minute." With shaking hands the Austrian grabbed the end of the needle. He tried to stop his trembling and steady his hand, but to no avail. He decided that if he just did this quickly, he at least wouldn't cause Prussia too much pain with it. Then again, with the torture he'd been through, would he even feel this? Somehow Austria doubted it.  
Prussia winced when Austria carefully but quickly slid the needle and the tube out of his arm, but even then, he just kept on whimpering and sniffling as if the pain was still as strong as it had been. Worried, Austria asked him what the liquid was, but Prussia shook his head weakly as he gasped for breath. "Hurts…" was his only, weak answer. "It… it _hurts…_ "  
That was it. Austria needed to know what he was dealing with. He got his pocket knife out and quickly cut the tube, holding the leaking end of it above his left palm. Maybe the scent would be able to tell him more.  
Except he didn't even need scent when his ears were met with a sizzling noise the moment some droplets of the liquid dripped onto his hand, and it seemed to burn right through his skin. He gritted his teeth and bit back a whimper of his own as he saw a raw wound open up on the palm of his hand. Then he glanced back at Prussia, and suddenly it was not so much surprising to him how Prussia was in such pain that it brought him to tears. Rather he found it astonishing that the Free State was even still conscious with this stuff running through his veins.  
 _They injected_ _ **acid**_ _into him?!_  
Behind him, he heard Poland choke out in sheer horror: "Oh, God…"  
"I know," Austria replied hoarsely, getting up again and turning to the blond nation instead. "This is sick." But then when he looked at Poland, his heart skipped a beat in fear and he froze.

Two humans stood in the doorway, looking at them in confusion and rage. A guard and an assistant of Mengele's, by the looks of them. "What is this about?!" the doctor's assistant blurted out. "You're not supposed to interfere with any of the test subjects!"  
Those words melted away the fear that had seemingly frozen Austria solid for a moment, replacing that with a burning rage. _Test subject?_ he thought grimly. _My cousin is no one's_ _ **test subject!**_ Gritting his teeth in anger and determination, Austria promptly handed his pocket knife to Poland, who had come to stand beside him. "Get Prussia loose," he ordered him tautly. " _Someone's_ asking to get his ass kicked straight into oblivion."  
As the guard approached him with his baton raised for attack, Austria almost instinctively grabbed the leaking end of the IV tube again and swung that in the human's direction. Drops of acid splattered over the man's face, causing him to cry out in pain and stumble backward. He dropped his weapon and brought his hands to his face instead, where chemical burns appeared on his cheeks, his nose and his forehead.  
The other human cursed at this, but not about his companion being attacked like that, Austria soon found out with another surge of anger. "You cut the IV?!" the doctor's assistant roared. "Dr Mengele will be outraged when he finds out! This was supposed to kill that _filth._ " He looked disgusted as he stared at Prussia, who now only had his hands cuffed anymore and Poland was working hastily to get those off, too.  
With a roar of rage, Austria pulled the IV pole with him as he dashed forward and swung acid into this man's face, too. More than a few drops. He pinned the human to the wall with his right arm as he gripped the tube with his left. First he shook it and splattered the chemicals over the man's cheeks, eliciting a whimper. Next he slid the end of the tube into the collar of the human's shirt and down, letting the acid leak over his body. The man yowled in pain.  
"You feel that?!" Austria yelled in his face, feeling his blood boiling under his skin. This was one of the most disgusting human beings he'd ever come across. If ever he were to face Mengele, by God, the things he would want to do to that devil! For now, hearing this man scream in pain was good enough. " _DO YOU FEEL THAT, YOU MONSTER?!"_ he roared, slamming the human against the wall hard. " _That's_ what your boss injected into Prussia's _veins!_ And you know what? If he wants to see what this does to a person so badly, he can just _stick it up his godforsaken ass_ , right after performing autopsy on _you_!"  
In his fury, Austria had forgotten about the other human, and suddenly he was yanked away and slammed against the wall himself; the doctor's assistant collapsed to the floor, unconscious, his face covered in chemical burns. The guard, also with raw wounds on his face, looked wild with rage and pain as he clenched his hands around Austria's neck and blocked his airways. After just seconds of grappling with the Austrian, the human began to overpower the nation. _If I let this man win this fight,_ Austria thought desperately, begging the adrenaline coursing through his body to give him the strength to win. _If I lose, Prussia and Poland will be-!_  
But then, as the guard kept Austria pinned to the wall with his hands around the nation's neck to strangle him, a thin, ghostly white arm suddenly snaked around the human's neck instead. With a single, powerful thrust, that eerily thin, bruised arm twisted the guard's neck. There was a sickeningly loud crack, and in an instant Austria felt the two hands on his own neck slacken and slide away, the human falling limply to the floor.  
But even though his assailant lay dead at his feet now, Austria felt only more terrified as he stared at Prussia, who stood shaking before him, his dull red gaze fixed on the man he'd just killed. Suddenly aware of the pain in his left palm again, Austria could still hear the echoes of his cousin's whimpers and his crying, and he couldn't comprehend that that same man now stood in front of him, having killed someone a moment ago. He shouldn't have the strength. He shouldn't be able to _stand.  
He's a monster…_  
As quickly as that thought appeared in his mind, he pushed it away again. Prussia was looking at him now, his gaze clearly showing how absent-minded he was because of the pain he was is. _Yet he snapped that man's neck like a twig…!_ Austria swallowed the lump of fear in his throat. This was not the time to be afraid of his cousin -Prussia needed his help now. Desperately.  
Something flashed in Prussia's eyes, very faintly. "Austria," he rasped, still barely audible. Austria hated hearing his voice being so weak and hoarse: it meant the Prussian had been screaming in agony like he had earlier for days. Still, he listened to what his younger cousin had to say with bated breath. The albino twitched his lips in what was probably meant to be a grin, but it didn't look much like one. "You… cannot fight… seriously."  
Somehow, those words eased Austria's mind. _That's my little cousin, all right._ "I know," he answered, still a little bleakly, though. The sense of calm he'd had for just a moment evaporated like dew in the morning a split second later; Prussia went limp suddenly, collapsing to the floor like a ragdoll, were it not for Austria catching him before that could happen. The thin, battered nation was shaking in Austria's arms, leaning heavily against his cousin. Austria could tell that Prussia had no strength left in his body. _Then how did he just…?_ He silenced his thoughts instantly. Adrenaline could do many things to a person, after all.  
"Let's get you out of this place, Prussia," the older nation said softly, hauling Prussia up gently. Unfortunately, although the albino had lost a lot of weight in his time here, Austria could tell already that he wasn't going to be able to carry him, at least not for long at a time. Somehow Prussia would have to find the strength to walk, even if just little bits at a time. For now he would be carried, though. Austria glanced at Poland then, who looked shaken after what had happened the past few minutes. "Are you ready to go, too?" Austria asked him carefully.  
For a moment, Poland didn't respond, but then he nodded eagerly. "Let's go."

* * *

By dusk, Austria drove his car off the road and parked it, hidden under the shelter of trees. He wondered for a moment if he would ever remember exactly how he had escaped with Poland and Prussia; he recalled how much of a struggle it had been to silence his cousin as they were sneaking out of the medical ward. The tortured nation had been too out of it to realise that he had to be quiet, or else he was simply unable to, being in such pain.  
Once outside, the Prussian had another moment of energy, which did make the escape easier on the three nations, since Prussia had managed to walk by himself until they reached, by a miracle and a half, Austria's personal vehicle. Once there, however, the albino had collapsed once more, on the backseat this time, and Poland was in a similar state beside Austria in the passenger's seat.  
After getting to his car, the Austrian had just driven out of there. He didn't remember what exactly he had to do to get away, but they'd managed. Just the fact that he couldn't recall, however, convinced him that it hadn't been easy to do so; the mind did occasionally have the tendency to repress painful or traumatic memories, even in nations.  
Maybe he would remember more by morning.  
With a sigh, Austria stopped the engine. He wasn't too sure where he was exactly, but he was almost certain that they'd crossed half the country by now. All that was left to do now was to dispose of anything that might reveal who the three men in the car really were, should they encounter any German soldiers. That's where Poland came in, or rather, the clothes that Poland had stuffed under Austria's spare uniform that he wore: Austria himself wore a casual outfit under his uniform already, and the two sets of clothing that Poland had with him were meant for him and Prussia. Their prison rags and the uniforms would be burnt. That, of course, would be their source of warmth for the night, too, aside from the blankets Austria had stashed away in the back of his car. There was food and water there, too. They should be all right for the night, hidden from sight, at a great distance from Auschwitz, disguises ready and supplies at hand. He'd thought this part through.  
The nation then turned to look at Poland, finding the blond man asleep in the passenger's seat. For a moment, Austria just watched him, smiling a little. Poland deserved his rest. For now, though, he needed to be awake for just a little while longer. Nudging the other nation gently, Austria told him: "You need to get changed, Poland. Prussia too. That, and you might appreciate some food by now."  
Bleary-eyed and a little dazed with sleep still, Poland nodded, then slowly heaved himself out of the car, following Austria's example in that. While the Pole took off the black uniform and changed into the trousers and shirt Austria had provided him with, Austria went over to the backseat of his car. He hesitated for a little while there, but he just told himself that Prussia needed to wake up too. This was important, and it wouldn't take too long.  
Prussia was shivering, though, and when Austria touched him to very carefully shake him, the older nation felt heat coming off of him in waves. Cursing under his breath, Austria immediately moved his hand to his cousin's face instead, feeling it clammy and very warm under his palm. "Shit," he cursed again, if only for the lack of a better response. "Of course, why would everything go well for once?"  
Poland then asked what was wrong. He didn't look too surprised when Austria answered that Prussia had a bad fever. "Well, he did get quite the load of poison injected into his bloodstream, if you recall," he answered with a shrug, clearly unfazed by it. "This is a method of detoxing; once he's rid of that… acid, you said? He'll be fine in the morning, don't worry. I've had the same thing."  
Austria decided to take his word for it. Still, he anxiously bit the inside of his lip as he turned back to Prussia and very carefully woke him. It didn't surprise him when the albino had a panic attack upon waking up, but just like that morning, Austria quickly made him realise that he was safe now, that there was no need to be frightened. Once quiet again, Prussia stared at Austria with a blank, unfocused gaze. Still out of it, that much was clear straight away.  
"Come on now, Prussia," he said, half lifting the Prussian as he helped him out of the car and then carefully set him down on the ground; he realised the moment he'd brought his cousin to his feet that Prussia simply couldn't stand at that moment. With a deep sigh, Austria realised also that he would have to help him into his new, proper clothes. Not that he was in any way against doing so, Prussia would naturally need help being in the state he was in, but… _Still a tad awkward, though._  
Austria just kept mostly silent as he helped his cousin, after explaining to him what he was doing of course, and Prussia also didn't say a thing. The injured nation clearly did try to do something by himself, but he honestly didn't have the strength for it. If his condition earlier would have allowed him to do anything on his own at all, the fever now was what had rendered him completely helpless.  
When they'd finished, Poland tossed Austria a flask of water that he'd got from the back of the car without saying anything, and Austria gratefully took the lid off. His own throat felt parched, but he let Prussia drink first.  
It was while Austria gulped down a few mouthfuls of water himself that Prussia spoke for the first time since they escaped the camp. "Where… where are we going…?" He spoke slowly, as if the words had to be dragged from his tongue one by one, and his voice was so hoarse he was hard to even understand.  
Austria flashed him a smile. "Hungary, as a first," he replied warmly. "From there on, we'll see where it is we need to go in order to be safe. Elizaveta's our closest safe haven for now." He paused for a moment, giving his flask a shake. Still some water left in it. "Do you want to drink some more, Prussia? There's a bit left if you'd like it."  
His response was slow, but eventually the Prussian nodded, weakly holding out one violently shaking arm. Seeing this, Austria just shook his head, gently tapped his cousin's hand to make it clear that he could lower it again, then held the flask to his lips for him. He just trusted that Poland had been right in saying that Prussia would be fine in the morning, _prayed_ that Poland had been right. Because for all his calm and gentle behaviour towards Prussia now, Austria was terrified that his cousin wouldn't get any better. _Fever increases blood pressure after all, and as does fear and adrenaline._ Most of all, the nation prayed that he was overreacting. _Increased blood pressure in turn increases…_ No. That wouldn't happen; Prussia was safe now. They were all safe now. It was over.  
Prussia soon fell asleep again, resting half on Austria's lap while Austria and Poland both ate a little; of course they'd given Prussia some, too, but the Free State had been reluctant to eat. Austria then found out that Mengele had recently pulled out several of the albino's teeth, and they had yet to grow back. As he was disgusted by this, Poland explained to him in a tiny voice how pulling teeth was one of Mengele's many hobbies when dealing with nations. "Along with other things…"  
The little bit that Prussia had managed to eat eventually had been brought right back up just minutes later. Poland immediately complained about it being a waste of good food, and Austria had to agree. Prussia had survived without eating so far, and if he neither wanted to eat nor could hold anything down right now, then waiting until the morning before trying again sounded like a good plan.  
Right now, Poland was watching the sleeping Prussian with an unreadable expression. "So, uh…" he mumbled eventually, yawning before he went on. "That cousin of yours really is… He's a piece of work, isn't he?" The half-starved nation curled up a little, shivering. "Looking at him now, I can't believe he snapped someone's neck just this morning. Just like that. As if it was _easy._ "  
Austria nodded, looking down at Prussia, who was shivering in his sleep. "It was adrenaline," he answered softly. "Nothing more." Still, he too was amazed all over again as he recalled that morning. He had believed Prussia had been as weak and helpless as he was now, and yet, he just got up and killed someone with his bare hands. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time.  
Poland only huffed and got up on trembling legs. Clearly he, too, had come to the end of his strength. The nation just grabbed the blankets Austria had stashed away in the back of his car, threw two of them to Austria and Prussia and kept the other two himself, saying that he would need a little extra; thin as he was, he couldn't exactly keep himself warm as well as Austria could. "As for the albino bastard, from what I'm seeing, he can make use of your body heat for the night. Am I wrong?"  
"Not at all," Austria answered, carefully moving Prussia off his lap and covering the shivering nation with one of the two blankets, draping the other over his own shoulders. "I'll keep watch for some time at least; I will need to sleep a bit, too, mind you, but not until I'm certain we're safe here. Sleep well, Poland."  
The blond nation nodded. "You too. And, Austria…" Poland trailed off for a moment, looking somewhat uncertain whether or not to say this. "…Thank you."  
Austria only flashed him a smile, then lay down beside Prussia and pulled his cousin close, keeping him warm. It had certainly been an eventful day, stressful and nerve-wrecking, but he hadn't felt this good in ages nonetheless.  
Prussia was safe now. Poland was safe. And Austria himself would never go back to those hellish concentration camps ever again.  
It was over now.

* * *

There was a knock on the door. Hungary nearly jumped when she heard it, surprised by the noise; she didn't expect any visitors today. Quickly she turned off the fire on the stove, where she had just placed a pot with water and potatoes to be cooked. She would continue cooking once she'd handled this.  
"Coming!" the young woman called to whoever was at her door, hastily making her way there. The moment she opened the door and saw who was there, Hungary's heart skipped a beat.  
Austria's deep blue eyes lit up with relief when he saw Hungary, a smile forming on his lips. For a moment, Hungary could only wonder what had happened to him; there were dark circles under his eyes and his hair looked like it hadn't seen a comb in a week.  
The younger nation greeted her softly, was quiet for a moment, then hugged her out of the blue. Hungary already couldn't even respond anymore. Poland and Prussia stood behind Austria, both bone-thin, looking tired. There was a haunted look in Poland's eyes, and Prussia was staring in the distance. What were they doing here? What had happened?  
Neither of those questions was the first thing Hungary managed to choke out when she found her voice back. Instead, she glanced at each of the three men in turn. "Oh my God," she stammered. "You should come inside, all of you! Oh, you must all be so tired. Are you hungry? I was just going to cook. I can make more for you."  
"Elizaveta, calm down," Austria shushed her carefully, smiling wide. "Thanks for letting us in, and thank you for offering to make dinner, too. First, maybe, I should tell you what's happened." He leant forward and gave her a quick, grateful peck on the cheek. Then he looked back at Poland and Prussia.  
Poland was the first to move. Seeing her old friend again after so long, Hungary felt choked up, and she swung her arms around him the moment he was within reach. "Oh, Feliks-! I'm so, _so_ glad you're out of that place!"  
It hardly felt like Poland when the other nation hugged her back. He was too thin, too fragile. Was this really her friend? "I'm glad, too," Poland rasped back. He even sounded different. "Glad to see you, too. I missed you, Liz."  
Hungary held him a little tighter for a moment, then he let go of her. Immediately, Hungary moved on to hug Prussia next. The albino didn't respond at first, but then he lightly put his arms around her too. "Oh, Gil, where've you been?" Hungary choked out in a whisper. "Ludwig was so worried." She tilted her head and gently kissed him on the cheek. "I… I was worried, too. _So much_." Then she kissed him again, on the lips this time, and finally she felt as if she had Prussia back for real.  
The Prussian kissed her back, and when Hungary was about to move away, he didn't let her do so quite yet. Then he pressed his face into the crook of her neck. He didn't say anything still, but she was all right with that.  
Poland, on the other hand, clearly found it difficult to stay quiet. "Uh, wow… and yuck," he muttered from where he stood behind Hungary. "What did I miss?"  
"That's been a thing for some years now," Austria responded in Hungary's stead. "Just go inside already, Poland."  
"Damn… That must be awkward on you."  
"Not really... Well… A little."  
Hungary sighed deeply, hooked her arm with Prussia's, then brought him inside after Austria and Poland. This sure was a surprise. One that she was overjoyed with.

* * *

Hungary was horrified through every second of Austria, together with Poland, recounting the tale of how they all escaped from Auschwitz. Prussia just sat beside Hungary in silence, his gaze turned to the floor at first. After a minute or so he started glancing around, looking at one spot for some time and then looking at another. The Prussian's gaze was focused as he did that, as if he was looking at something. Every now and then his blank expression would change, a tiny smile appearing on his lips or a sad shimmer in his in his eyes. Austria and Poland actually stopped talking for a little while, watching him in confusion, but Prussia didn't even seem to notice as he chuckled for a moment.  
"That freak's been doing this since the day after we escaped," Poland said as he watched Prussia a moment longer. "First time he started laughing out of nowhere, I swear, I didn't believe Austria when he said the weirdo's fever had really gone down again. I still don't."  
Hungary just smiled. She vaguely remembered the one night she had been drunk and Prussia had been there and she… Well, acted as a drunk person would, really. Her friend had told her how he could see the spirits of his deceased family members, had been able to do so since his brain haemorrhage. She just thought it was a miracle that he could still smile and laugh after everything he'd been through until a few days ago, even though speaking appeared to be too much to ask of him right now, for some reason. He still hadn't said a word.  
Or at least, not with sound. "Prussia, sweetie," Hungary said to him gently, very carefully placing her hand on his cheek and turning his face to look at her instead of whomever he was talking to. "Do you think that, maybe, you could let the conversations wait for now? You're freaking out Austria and Poland a bit; remember that none of us can see them. All right?"  
Prussia blinked in surprise, staring her straight in the eyes for a moment. Then he sighed softly. "…Perhaps…"  
Poland grunted in annoyance at this. " _Now_ he speaks? Come _on!_ If it weren't for that one question where we were headed, I would've declared him mute from the moment we left the camp!" He grumbled some more, none of which was too polite, but Hungary hardly even noticed him.  
She felt completely frozen as she stared Prussia in the eyes. She'd thought he looked different, but the young woman had believed it was the pitiful state he was in, nothing more. But now that she was looking at his eyes this closely, Hungary realised that wasn't the only thing that was off: Prussia's irises weren't completely red anymore. Near the bottom of both his irises, like misplaced drops of paint, was a violet-blue hue.  
"What…?"  
Prussia backed away from her suddenly, eyes wide and afraid. Hungary realised she'd moved her fingers closer to his eye as she was trying to get a good look, and clearly the Prussian didn't like that to say the least about it. He looked tense all over, on high guard. Immediately Austria got up and went to his cousin, telling him softly and gently that it was all right, that Hungary hadn't meant to do anything to hurt him. Hungary nodded and confirmed this, and Prussia eased up again gradually.  
The albino looked miserable right then. "Sorry… for overreacting…"  
Hungary just shook her head and pulled him into a hug. "That's okay, Gil, it really is," she assured him in a gentle whisper. "I know that you went through a lot the past months. It's okay to be jumpy after something like that. Who wouldn't be?"  
For a moment, Prussia didn't react, but then he nodded very carefully. "I… I guess…"  
Hungary smiled at this and gave him a quick kiss. "Just be sure to talk sometimes, all right? If you never talk to anybody, you'll scare them instead."  
"I've been talking all this time," Prussia answered, his voice hoarse and raspy. He looked confused. "I've even been talking in my _sleep._ They're with me all the time now," he added with a hint of a smile on his face. "They're really helping me."  
Hungary smiled wider now, too, keeping her tone as gentle and warm as she could. "That's wonderful, Gil," she answered softly. "But Austria and Poland have been worried about you all this time-"  
"I wasn't."  
"…Austria was worried about you all this time. You should have let him know that you're okay. Well enough to talk, anyway. Okay?"  
Prussia only nodded, looked like he was about to say something, but he yawned suddenly. Hungary ruffled his hair carefully. "Why don't you go to bed, Gil? You must be exhausted. All of you must be. I will wake you when I finish making dinner, if you want me to."  
Again, Prussia nodded, thanked her softly, then he got up on shaking legs. Watching him stumble, Hungary almost jumped right to her feet to help him up the stairs, but the Free State steadied himself quickly, although compared to normal he still looked wobbly.  
Poland sighed when Prussia had left the room, looking a little embarrassed all of a sudden. "Liz, I hate to ask, but…" He trailed off for a few seconds, then asked in a small voice: "May I… for just a few minutes… maybe use your shower? I haven't seen a proper one since Prussia captured me years ago, and I'm honestly surprised you haven't all dropped dead from my scent yet; _I_ nearly did, myself!"  
Hungary flashed him a smile then, too, and said it was all right. She had noticed how horrible he smelt, of course -and the same went for Prussia- but she had decided not to comment on it.  
Poland's eyes lit up with relief and gratitude. "You really are an angel, you know that? Thanks, Liz." Then he left, too, also none too steady on his feet.

Hungary said she would make dinner now, then, starting with peeling more potatoes. Austria said he wanted to help, to do something normal again, finally, so they went into the kitchen together. Once in there, Hungary sighed deeply. "They should see a doctor," she mumbled, half to herself. "Both of them."  
To her surprise, Austria stiffened. "Don't say that to either of them," he warned her grimly. "If Prussia was reacting badly earlier, well… I don't even want to know what happens when he hears that word. Poland, too, would freak out." He then went on to explain how both nations had been experimented on like lab rats, and Hungary felt sick by the end of it. Austria only sighed. "Prussia, at least, needs his medicine, though," he concluded softly. "There's no way they let him have his medication while he was in there -he must've been without it for months now. That, and the stress he's been through can't have done him any good. Add that intense fever to the equation, and, well…"  
"Recipe for disaster," Hungary agreed, although it did leave her thinking. "He looks all right, though," she countered. "Maybe he did heal enough after that stroke and he doesn't have such a high risk of getting another one, after all…? Maybe we've been too careful all this time."  
"And maybe this is just the calm before the storm."  
"Honestly, that poor thing's just been through a hurricane already, I don't think it will get any worse now."  
"…I sincerely hope so."  
It was quiet for a moment after that, the two nations peeling potatoes in silence, until Hungary cracked a smile. A genuine, warm smile, reflecting just what she felt at that moment. "It'll all be fine, Roderich," she assured Austria then, dropping her potato and her knife and swinging her arms around him in a warm, comforting embrace. "All of you can stay here for a little while, rest up, gain some strength. I know it's not the safest place to be for any of you, but a few days should be all right, isn't it? And as for Prussia's pills -and also new glasses, mind you, the poor thing must be half blind by now- I will find a way to get my hands on those. Who knows, maybe he kept a storage in Berlin, or Königsberg? I'm sure he'll be able to tell us the name of the pills, too, if he doesn't have any left there." She let go of Austria then and stepped back, still smiling wide as she looked up at him, her green eyes twinkling with joy. "Poland must be so happy to be free. Prussia, too, even though he has trouble expressing it yet. Roderich, I can't thank you enough…" Tears welled up in her eyes, and the Hungarian just couldn't contain her joy anymore, nearly tackling Austria with another tight hug.  
"Roderich, you're a hero… You're truly a hero!"  
Austria, however, shook his head, although he did hug her back and thank her first. "I'm just glad I finally managed to do something useful," he answered softly. "This couldn't go on any longer; the things they did to Poland, and then Prussia, too… Ludwig needs his brother back, I know he does. Prussia needs Ludwig, too. If we can reunite Poland with Lithuania, if not now then at least when the war ends… That, too, would be amazing. But…" He was quiet for a moment, shivering a little. "Didn't I condemn them to a fate just as bad, though? We're not safe now, none of us is -we're fugitives. What if we get caught…?"  
Hungary silenced him quickly. "Don't you worry about that, Roderich," she assured him warmly. "You've worked hard enough lately. I'll take it from here. You will all be fine, and I'll try to get in touch with Ludwig again, also, and reunite him with Gil. All will be fine from now on. I promise."

* * *

 **So a few more things to mention: has anyone ever noticed that, in the early seasons of the anime, Prussia's eyes were completely red, and now in the newer seasons he sometimes has this pinkish-violet to blue-violet in his eyes, also?  
Yeah... Had to do it. It doesn't affect his sight (anymore) and it doesn't hurt (anymore) but traces will always remain.**

 **By the way, I wrote that scene where Austria fought the guard a while ago already, and also Prussia's intervention. From the part where Austria is pinned against the wall until they leave (minus the few sentences with Poland, because he wasn't originally in the scene and neither was the doctor's assistant) was all done with copy-paste ^~^' The rest before it was re-written to include Poland and that disgusting excuse of a human being, but close to the original., which was written in February already. Just a bit of trivia there.**

 **Also, I believe this is the first chapter since starting Cross Your Heart even that was written 100% from perspectives other than Prussia's or Germany's. I've used others before, of course, but only for small parts. Heh. More trivia.**

 **Uh, before I go overboard with all the trivia on this chapter and others... I hope you liked it, and thanks so much for reading again!**


	31. Chapter 31

**You guys are to good to me, I swear. There were just squeals of joy coming out of my mouth reading some of the lovely reviews you guys have written, not just on the previous chapter, but on every chapter so far.  
Literal. Squeals.  
That's not a normal noise for a human to make.**

 **So yeah... You guys really are too kind. One of these days my heart will overheat from all the warmth~**

 **Eh... Anyway, thanks for all the kind reviews and follows/favourites! I'm glad to see so many of you enjoyed the previous chapter.**

 **I hope you'll enjoy this one, too.**

* * *

This was it, then. This was the end.  
Germany felt a strange sense of calm as he stood on the cliffs around Omaha Beach, watching the Allied ships approach the coastline. He was tired, he was injured, he was borderline sick once again. Hitler, desperate now that it was clear that the Allied Forces were winning, had sent Germany to the Front again, anyway. Germany didn't care anymore. He didn't care about much of anything anymore.  
He still hadn't seen his brother, Austria had disappeared, too. Hungary had assured him that they were safe, that she'd seen them both, but Germany had lost contact with her in March, when Hitler, fearing a similar betrayal from the Hungarians as they got from the Italians, had ordered military occupation of Hungary.  
So that was that, then. He'd lost contact with everyone he could depend on, and why? He might never know. And now, well, now he was also expected to fight against what he had been longing for all this time; the beginning of the end.  
How long would it be now? How long would they still be able to keep up the fight before they would be forced to either surrender or be obliterated entirely? Hopefully not too long anymore. Germany would surrender today if he could. No, scratch that, he would surrender last year if he could. Such a shame there was no such thing as a time machine. How he would have loved to put a bullet through Hitler's head a day before he became Chancellor, and prevented all of this from happening. Yes, he and Prussia would have still been barely scraping by and working day and night, no doubt, but at least they would be together, they would be happy, they would be safe.  
Who knows? Maybe they could achieve that same happiness again after the war ended. If he had to believe Hungary, then his brother was still alive. Germany wouldn't give up hope that he would see Prussia again, if not before the end of the war, then after it. Whenever it would be, they would see each other again. When that happened, he would hold his brother and never let go anymore. And Prussia would survive losing the war, too. Of course he would. How silly to have thought otherwise.  
Looking out over the ocean, watching the ships approach ever more threateningly, Germany knew that all hope was lost for the Axis Powers now.  
What a good thing he didn't want to be part of that anymore, anyway.  
Swinging his rifle over his shoulder and tying it to his back, the young nation smiled as he watched the first enemy soldiers depart their ships, still at a considerable distance from the coast, and struggle their way through the waves to reach land. Germany was needed down there; he had received orders to fight on the beach itself, considering the many landmines there couldn't hurt him. Not permanently, anyway. Many other soldiers would stay up on the cliffs to shower a rain of bullets down onto their enemies. They would be sitting ducks down there, no more than moving targets. He wondered what would in the end kill more people: the bullets, or the landmines? Perhaps it would be a tie.  
Even so, Germany just _knew_ that his troops would lose this fight. If not today, then sometime in the near future. This was the day that marked the last phase of this war. He could feel it. And he just couldn't wipe the smile off his face at that moment.  
A fellow soldier came his way to remind him that they had to get moving. Germany gave a small nod. "Sure thing." Before turning around, he looked out over the waves and the ships once more, taking a deep breath. "What a glorious day, isn't it?"

A glorious day indeed, in a way, although one would beg to differ if they saw the massacre on the beach. Allied soldiers, British and American alike, came swarming the beach, and almost instantly the mass-killing began; landmines went off left and right, exploding in massive clouds of sand and dust, metal shards and body parts. Many soldiers seemed to only be able to take a few steps before they were blown into oblivion.  
Germany fired a few shots, but he didn't bother trying hard to hit his targets. He really didn't care anymore. He had wanted so badly to win this war after all, convinced that it was the only way for Prussia to be okay. He'd let go of that now, though. He knew that they would get in deep trouble, the both of them, whether they would win or lose. Now he just wanted the war to end, and the fastest way to do so was for the Allied Forces to finish the job.  
If, by whatever miracle, the German army would win the war, that too was fine with him. How could he not root for his own people? But losing the war, well… that seemed the most likely right now. He was fine with that. Whatever was needed to just get this entire affair over with. Anything.  
Prussia would live. Whatever happened, he would survive. Of course he would. Prussia was unbreakable. Everything he'd lived through and survived so far… losing one more war wouldn't break that awesome record. Why would it?  
So yes, losing was fine. So why would he even still try? He didn't want to kill anybody anymore.  
Minutes into the battle, Germany spotted something that caught his attention, and he immediately turned towards that. A soldier, kneeling and hunched over, holding another, injured soldier in his arms very carefully. It was the first soldier's messy blond hair and obviously British uniform that had drawn his attention towards him. When he got closer, his voice made his stomach do a backflip.  
"…can't just go and get hurt like this, you know?"  
 _That's… that's England!_ When Germany stood only metres away from the old kingdom, he got another shock, which got him dizzy all of a sudden. _America!_  
Germany just stood there for a moment, weapon in hand, mind swirling as he tried to figure out what to do about this. Before he got that far, however, England suddenly looked up at him, wide-eyed and startled. The two nations stared at each other for a moment, emerald green meeting icy blue, but there was nothing in the stare they gave each other. Recognition, yes, but no more.  
England reached for his pistol then, and Germany quickly lowered his own gun. He could tell that England wasn't on the defensive anymore the moment the younger nation showed that he didn't want to fight. But Germany's gaze was already fixed on America, and the young nation felt frozen in horror just then.  
America had clearly been too close to a landmine: metal shards protruded from his stomach and abdomen, blood soaking his clothes. His face was mostly intact still, but parts of his sleeves had been burnt away, and raw, red wounds lay beneath them. He looked like he was conscious, but just barely so.  
Germany made up his mind quickly, kneeling down opposite of England, beside America. Quickly he slid his arms under the injured nation's shoulders and legs, taking him from England. The kingdom immediately tried to stop him, but Germany only sent him a glare, frustrated in a heartbeat. _We don't have time for your damn distrust!_ "Just trust me, idiot!" he snapped before hastily lifting America, heaving himself to his feet and running to the cliffs; there was a natural alcove there, he'd seen earlier that morning, and right now it was the perfect spot to tend to America, shielded from bullets and at a safe distance from landmines.  
Trembling with panic, Germany set the injured nation down again. America didn't seem to be conscious anymore, now. Trying to control his shivering hands, the young German grabbed one of the chunks of metal that was lodged in the other nation's abdomen and gave it a single, powerful yank; it dislodged easily, and America unconsciously yelped in pain. England crashed down onto his knees beside them now, but Germany paid him no mind as he pulled another shard out of America's body.  
But then he felt the cold barrel of a pistol against the side of his head, and he froze. For a moment, he was back inside a house, one outraged nation in front of him, another, as it turned out, right behind him. Betrayal.  
Germany pushed those thoughts away just as England demanded what the hell he was doing, stammering nervously. The younger nation tried hard to stay calm. "Trying to save a fellow nation," he answered tautly. "Obviously." He pulled out the last chunk of metal then, pressing down hard on the bleeding wounds it left on America's abdomen, trying to slow the bleeding until it healed enough. England, in the meantime, remained cautious and tense even after lowering his weapon once more.  
Nervous because of it and agitated too, Germany glared at him again. " _Look,_ England, I'm just trying to help here!" he snapped angrily. "Don't you think I'm just as sick of this war as you are? I _never_ wanted another war, and especially not so soon after the previous-!" He bit his tongue quickly, turning his gaze back to America. The blood was seeping more slowly through his fingers by now; the wound must be closing.  
 _Why couldn't both wars have never happened…?_ Sometimes he dreamt about what life had been like before the Great War. Sometimes, when he woke up from dreams like those, he wished that he'd actually just fallen asleep, that he was having a nightmare, and that he would soon wake up to the peaceful life he'd once known. Why did his enemies think otherwise? How could anyone think that he wanted all of this, that he cheered on the bloodshed and chaos? How could England, even after Germany had brought America to safety and removed metal from his body and was now trying to stop his bleeding… how could he still believe the younger nation to be hostile?  
America's bleeding had slowed sufficiently now. He got up in silence -if England was this tense around him, he had nothing to say to the Kingdom now. He had better things to do than to hang around fellow nations who wouldn't even try to trust him for a heartbeat.  
But just as Germany swung his rifle over his shoulder again and took his first step, England spoke to him once more. "H-hey, kid!" the old Kingdom called after him. Germany froze, biting back a retort. _I'm not a kid!_ But then, he actually was, wasn't he? At least in comparison to England, who had to be nearly 2000 years old by now.  
The younger nation looked over his shoulder; England was quiet for a moment longer, hesitant to speak, but he did so anyway after mere seconds of silence. "Thank you," he stammered awkwardly, "a-and I'm sorry… for earlier…"  
Germany nodded stiffly. "That's okay, but please, don't say a word about this." He felt a cold shiver of dread going down his spine. "If anyone finds out that I helped the enemy…" He was certain that the war was nearly over, but even so, he didn't want to try his luck now any more than he had the past years.  
The young German held England's gaze for a moment longer, then turned away and went off to battle again. He felt shaky, and he wasn't sure whether it was because his people were losing this battle, or if it was because of what had happened just now. Either way, he had a façade to keep up out there.

* * *

"No. No, sorry, I can't do this."  
"Yes, you can. _Please._ "  
"No. Not like this." Austria sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Prussia; you don't seem ready for this yet, and I won't…" The older nation trailed off and shook his head, saying no more after that.  
Prussia stubbornly clenched his jaws and stuck out his left arm further. " _Please,_ " he repeated. "What good will I be to Ludwig -or to anyone- if I'm scared of needles?" The moment Prussia had heard of the mass-invasion by the Allied Forces, he had wanted to go back. He wanted to search for his little brother, to be there for him after all this time. Not only that, though: he also wanted to work on the medical staff again, which was why he was pushing himself to overcome his newly developed fears. How could he work as a medic again, or even handle a simple First-Aid kit, if he was too scared of needles to even _hold_ one? It wasn't just needles that made him nervous after what had happened over the winter -pliers, screwdrivers, knives, scalpels. The list went on. For months now he had been trying to get past his trauma and move on, and now that the German Army was finally being pushed into a corner and Germany was no doubt in trouble because of it, Prussia fought even harder to be himself again, all so that he could be there for his little brother when they could finally see one another again.  
Austria could well be right, though. Maybe he wasn't ready for this quite yet; his pulse was racing and he felt himself tremble ever so lightly as he gazed at the needle his cousin held between thumb and index finger. That just didn't make a difference right now, it didn't matter. Prussia had a duty to his little brother, and getting himself together again was the only way to be able to perform that duty once more.  
So the Prussian took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and stared straight at his cousin. "Just do it," he demanded weakly. "It's best to get it over with."  
Austria held his gaze for a few seconds, then sighed and nodded. "All right then," the older nation said in a soft voice. "If you're that adamant on it…" With his left hand, he gently but firmly grabbed Prussia's arm while moving the needle he held to his cousin's white skin with his right.  
Before the little piece of metal even touched his arm, Prussia stiffened. He forced himself to keep breathing, but his chest tightened and his heart was pounding. Images flashed in his mind, and suddenly he found himself back in a confined, dark space. What little space he had to move was useless to him -his entire body was aching, bone-thin and too feeble to do much of anything. By now he barely even had the strength to lift his head.  
When he saw someone move from the corner of his eye, however, he glanced up just for a moment. The Doctor stood beside him, fumbling with a plastic bag, a tube, a pole. Prussia's tired, hazy mind could still recognise it as being an IV. Filled with poison, probably, or maybe The Doctor had found a new method to keep his prisoner form getting completely dehydrated; every now and then, he allowed Prussia to drink a little. Even more rare were the few instances he'd been given some food, but it had happened once or twice.  
Most likely poison, though. Prussia shivered, certain that he would be sick again minutes from now. Injecting poison with an IV would keep him sick much longer than last time, when he'd received a single dose from a syringe; his body had been able to expel that within hours.  
He hardly felt the needle as it slid into his skin. He watched, mute, as the IV was attached to it. Liquid went down the tube, getting closer to the needle, closer to his veins. _Here we go again…_ he thought bleakly as the clear liquid reached the needle, ready to drip into his bloodstream.  
When it did, it came completely unexpectedly; it was as if liquid fire trickled into his veins, leaving a blazing pain in his arm, then his hand, shoulder, going down his back. Within seconds it was as if his entire body was aflame, burning from the inside.  
Prussia screamed.

"Hush, hush, it's okay!" Austria shushed him quickly, startled even though he'd clearly been expecting this. He quickly pulled back the needle, which had only just pierced Prussia's skin, and flung it aside. The nation swung his arms around Prussia, holding him tightly, both to comfort him and to keep him from thrashing about too much. In that position, he gently shushed Prussia, speaking soft words of comfort, something which was almost a routine after living together for months. Having done this almost daily since escaping Auschwitz together, Austria had become an expert on calming his cousin and soothing him whenever he was afraid.  
This time the panic attack was persistent, however, and Prussia soon found himself crying in sheer terror as he recalled the torture he'd been through once again. "It hurt so much," he choked out, his voice high-pitched and unstable. " _So. Much._ I-I couldn't move… The pain was too much, I… A-as if m-my blood was on f-fire-!" He whimpered, hiding his face against Austria's chest and shoulder as the older nation held him comfortingly. "I've never screamed like I did then… I just… I couldn't control it, couldn't stop myself-! Austria, I was _terrified_! I was scared and in pain and I… I…" He tried to bite back his sobs, but most still got past his lips, anyway. More than anything else, one feeling of that day still lay fresh in his mind, and his made his stomach churn with dread and fear and also shame. In a tiny, barely audible voice, he confessed: " _I wanted to die."_  
"No, you did not," Austria replied, still calm, still gentle. He was running his fingers through Prussia's white hair in a soothing rhythm. "Not really. Ludwig's still waiting for you, after all."  
But Prussia shook his head, trying desperately to silence himself, to take a deep breath and calm down. "I didn't care," he protested weakly, ashamed to the core as he recalled that feeling, that deep desire for his heart to stop. He'd never felt like that before then and he'd never felt like it since, and he hoped with all his heart that it would stay that way. "I didn't care about Ludwig, or anything! I only wanted the pain to end, nothing else. I just wanted to _die_ so that it would be over." He took in a deep breath, letting out a shaky sigh afterward. "I'm such a terrible brother…"  
Once again, Austria calmly denied this. "Of course not, Prussia, of course not. You were at your limit. The entire time, you were at the limit of what you can handle. That pain pushed you past that limit. No one can blame you for wishing for the pain to end, Prussia, I promise."  
Prussia nodded, trying to believe him, as he clenched his jaws tightly and fresh tears welled up in his eyes. Austria didn't seem to mind, only holding his younger cousin and whispering words of comfort to him every now and then. Eventually Prussia settled down again, only sniffling every seconds but otherwise calm and quiet once more. Then he shivered for a moment. "But I am a terrible brother," he insisted, feeling miserable as he voiced this undeniable fact. "I thought I could help him, but I failed, and look where it's gotten us both: Ludwig is alone, at the worst possible time, and has been alone for almost a year now; I'm a _wreck_ who can't seem to go a week without a panic attack. I got you in trouble and now we're both fugitives with no way of contacting Ludwig to let him know we're alive and okay." Hiding out in a small village up in the mountains of Switzerland, the two nations were probably safer than they would be anywhere else in the world -not even Switzerland himself knew that they were there. But their safety came at a price, and it was a steep one: being cut off from the outside world entirely. The only news they received about the war was what the locals could tell them (humans who had no idea who they were, naturally -the two cousins had found out that some of the people here had believed them to be a gay couple fleeing from persecution, which was also why they'd avoided the nations at first. It had taken quite some time to convince them that they were cousins and they were in hiding for different reasons entirely). That, and what they could feel for themselves, of course. It wasn't too long ago that Vienna had been bombed heavily, an attack so bad that it forced the roles to be switched and left Prussia as the caretaker for two days. Which, naturally, hadn't gone as smoothly as it could have done.  
Prussia, in turn, could feel that the battle on the Eastern Front wasn't quite in the Germans' favour anymore, either. More than once, he had woken up with a sore body, a pain completely different from the torture he'd received and which thus didn't affect him too badly, but it did leave him worried about his little brother all the more. If only he hadn't been so foolish. If only he could have been patient.  
He would have still been with his little brother now, supporting Germany in what was likely the best and worst part of the war at the same time: the end of it.

"You haven't lost every connection to him."  
Prussia looked up when he heard these words; Austria had just left to make some coffee, after a long silence had passed between the two nations once Prussia had calmed down again. Now Brandenburg sat where the Austrian had been a minute before, looking at Prussia with a knowing look in her blue eyes. A little smile played on her lips. "I can try to speak to him, Prussia," she told him then, making his heart flutter hopefully. "I've done so twice over the past years. It's difficult, more difficult than being able to talk to you is these days, but I will try. He needs it -I'm sure it will be possible for me to do so."  
His chest filled with a comfortable, soothing warmth at the mere idea, Prussia smiled. "Please do," he whispered, not bothering to speak only in thought but still careful to not let Austria hear. "If you get the chance, could you tell him we're all right? Explain to him why we can't get in touch with him?" The Free State was quiet for a moment as Brandenburg chuckled softly, answering that she had been planning to do exactly that. Then he sighed. "What I would give to be able to talk to him in dreams, also…"  
"Surely you wouldn't give your _life_ to do so," Brandenburg scolded him gently when the Prussian said this. "That's the price you'd need to pay, after all. No, dear, you're not dying quite yet, so that won't be a possibility. Have patience."  
Prussia sighed after hearing this. "I'm dying anyway, whether it be today or a century from now. Knowing that isn't exactly the most comforting thought in the world, you know?" He huffed, turning his gaze away from Brandenburg to stare out the window instead. "Sometimes… I just get the feeling that it would be best -for everyone- if I just died sooner rather than later. I'm steadily weakening and not going to get any better. How long will it be before I'm nothing but a burden to everyone around me? I know that my sight's hardly been declining for years now, but it is still worse than when I first got glasses -at this rate, who knows, maybe I'll go _blind_ someday! I'm honestly surprised that I haven't had another stroke yet, what with all the shit of the past few years. If I ever do have another one, I'm pretty sure that, if it doesn't kill me, it will at least leave me paralysed or mute or with some sort of shitty cognitive problems…" The Prussian laughed dryly, imagining what his life might be like decades from now, if those things really would happen. "Poor Ludwig would have a full-time job looking after his useless, blind, sick, complete _liability_ of a brother. If I died now, well… I won't deny that he'd have a difficult time because of it, adapting to being alone from now on, but he's smart, strong and independent. He'd make it, and he would still have Austria and Hungary to support him when he needs it. I would be able to guide him without being a burden to him."  
Brandenburg only calmly shook her head, and Prussia trailed off soon after, sighing softly and waiting for what she had to say. "Sweetheart, sorry to disappoint you, but the only one who would in any way benefit from your death is _you_ ," she told him, both serious and in a teasing manner at the same time. Her eyes twinkled with joy, but there was sadness in them also. "It's undeniable that Germany would be all right after your death in terms of being able to look after himself, you're right with that one. However, he wouldn't be _better off_ without you by his side; you're his big brother, and he loves you and wants to be with you always, regardless of your condition. I cannot say for sure whether any of the things you mentioned are ever going to happen, but even if they did, he wouldn't care! He'd still want you by his side even if you couldn't speak, if you couldn't walk or couldn't see. It would be difficult to deal with, sure, but he would do anything to have you with him. So don't you underestimate how much you mean to your little brother." She glanced over his shoulder then, something flashing in her eyes as she added more softly: "And not just him, either."  
Prussia could already guess where this was going when he looked over his shoulder, following her gaze; Austria stood in the doorway, tray in hand with two cups and a coffee pot on it, staring at his cousin in stunned silence. Prussia bit his lip and looked away guiltily, very uncomfortable all of a sudden. Austria then asked what was going on, sounding confused and somewhat nervous, too.  
With yet another sigh, Prussia nodded to the chair Austria had been using earlier; Brandenburg had disappeared again. "You might want to sit down for this one, Sissy."

* * *

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Germany glared at his leg one last time: the broken limb still hadn't healed even the slightest, hours after sustaining the injury. He wasn't surprised by that, of course, since his body had been fighting off pneumonia for the past week also. He hadn't been fighting for over two weeks, but just that morning there had been a raid on the base he was at, and the young nation had gotten injured in the bombing. The most surprising thing to him was that he had avoided capture despite not being able to walk normally with one broken leg.  
With a deep sigh, the German lay down and closed his eyes, hoping that there wouldn't be another raid on this base, also. He was sick, he was injured, he was tired and he was just _pissed off._ Weeks had turned into months since the Allied invasion of the west coast, and the war was still on. Would it _never_ end?  
They had already lost control over France. Other occupied nations would soon be freed also. _Just a little longer,_ he told himself as he felt tiredness drag him into sleep quickly. _It won't be long anymore now. Just… hang on… a little longer…_  
Being able to fall asleep in a matter of seconds was likely the only upside to being this sick. He gladly made use of it, anyway. He needed it.

This felt familiar; Germany found himself on a bench on the edge of a large town square somewhere in Berlin, under the shade of a tree. There was someone beside him there, and without even looking, he already figured out who it was.  
"Brandenburg," he said softly, confused by it all. "Why are you here? Why am _I_ here?"  
The young woman smiled warmly at him. "Because you need help, sweetheart," was all she said, her blue eyes twinkling.  
Germany huffed. "You think?" Immediately he looked away, ashamed that he sounded as short-tempered and blunt as he just did. Brandenburg had nothing to do with any of it, he shouldn't snap at her.  
But Brandenburg only chuckled then. "Oh, Ludwig, don't forget that I've been married to Prussia for most of a century," she told him gently, still laughing a little. "I'm used to way worse than that." Warmth flashed in her eyes when she spoke her husband's name, and her smile grew wider as she leant a little closer to Germany. "And you know, Prussia is just the person I'm here to talk about."  
In a heartbeat, Germany felt hope explode inside his chest, and for the first time in ages, he felt at ease and calm again, and at the same time he was almost excited at the prospect of getting news. "Do you know where my brother is?" he asked eagerly, unable to contain his emotions. "I-is he all right? And Austria, Hungary, are they all right too?"  
Brandenburg shushed him gently. "Yes," she replied in a soft voice. "Yes to all of those. They're all safe, Ludwig, I promise you." She paused for a moment, hesitating, and her expression lost its warmth and joy bit by bit. She sighed. "They did get in trouble, however. That was already a year ago now. I… I don't think it's my place to tell you what happened exactly, it's up to Prussia and Austria whether or not they want to tell you and when. They both had to flee the country, and after stopping by Hungary's for a little while, the two of them have moved to Switzerland. They're hiding out in a small, little-known village in the mountains; it might be the safest place in the world right now."  
Listening to this, Germany felt his calm sense of relief fade away again, replaced by even more confusion and worry. What had happened that his brother and cousin had to flee to Switzerland? And did the Swiss know that they were there? Going by Brandenburg's words, Hungary wasn't with them, so where had she gone to after the invasion? "A-and Prussia," the young nation began hoarsely, finding it hard to breathe. He swallowed the lump in his throat before he could say any more. "Is he… _okay?_ I-if he's in the mountains… Does he have access to a pharmacist at all? D-does he have all the medication that he needs?" He might be 'safe' in the sense that he was in neutral territory, that Hitler had no chance of getting to him and neither did the enemy, but for Prussia the potential threats weren't just from outside.  
"He's doing well," Brandenburg assured him in a gentle but determined tone. "Not perfect, but he's getting better with the week. He's… had a hard time, both physically and mentally. But I promise you, Ludwig, he's recovering well thanks to Austria being there with him. Austria is doing well because he has a clear goal now: he wants to help Prussia get better again, and he's not going to let anything stop him from doing so. Okay? They're fine."  
Unable to speak for a moment, Germany nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Prussia was all right, and so was Austria. He trusted Brandenburg in that; he didn't care that this was a dream, that it wasn't really happening, that Brandenburg wasn't really there. It might all be his own imagination, but at least his imagination was doing a damn good job on easing his nerves and making him a little more confident about the future.  
"Ludwig," Brandenburg then said after a short silence, and the young nation looked at her again. She was staring at him with an intense blue gaze. "Do you remember what I told you when we first spoke?" He blinked in surprise, but then gave a short nod. "So if I asked you a question now, would you be able to answer it for me?" She blinked once, tilting her head a little, keeping her gaze focused on him all the time. "Who are you, Germany?"  
The question took him by surprise, and he didn't know what to say. But then memories began to flash through his mind. Words.  
 _Well, Germany is the strongest nation on the mainland, after all.  
Don't you ever believe them when they tell you that you're a monster -you're an honest, good soul, tainted only by a situation you were forced into due to circumstances.  
Germany, you are your people, but you're also a __**person.**_ _  
_Remembering what he had been told in the past, Germany took a deep breath. "I'm Germany," he answered the question determinedly. "The strongest nation on the European mainland. If not in military strength, economic stability or political power, then at least in personal strength. And truth be told, I got that from my brother; he taught me well, no one can deny that." His lips twitched into a tiny smile as he spoke. "My people may have been responsible for a lot of suffering over the past decades, but although I do not deny all responsibility, I also know for a fact that I did not cause all of it; I've made mistakes, and I will have to make up for them in due time, but I cannot and will not take the blame for the faults of my leaders. Because you know what?" He sighed and turned to stare up at the clear sky. "I may be Germany, but I'm also just Ludwig. I am my people, and their mistakes are my mistakes, but I'm also just… me."  
Brandenburg smiled wide when he said this, and she nodded happily. "And don't you forget that, sweetheart. Don't ever forget that."

* * *

Those words still echoed in Germany's head months later, on the 24th of March 1945, when he sat bleeding and defenceless against a low wall after an attack. Before him stood four people, each of them staring at him in what looked like disbelief. England, Scotland, America, Canada. The two sets of brothers had him cornered, but even if he had anywhere to run, he couldn't even have tried. He was injured once again, having been hit in the stomach by a flying rock after an explosion. It had snapped a rib or two, and being unable to run fast with the pain it caused, he hadn't been in time to escape a bullet in the hip, either. Then another one in the leg. He had been attacked specifically to immobilise him, and he only wondered if it had been one of the four nations that stood in front of him now. If so, it might give him some trouble later on.  
He was defiant as he looked each of them in the eyes, but not very much so; he figured one of his broken ribs must be poking his lungs, because it hurt him to breathe, and the lack of oxygen made him dizzy. "So now what?" Germany croaked, narrowing his eyes. "Are you going to kill me? Four nations present for my execution… I suppose that can be considered an honour, can't it?"  
"It's a tempting thought," America muttered with a huff. "But no. After all… You didn't kill me or England, even when you had a clear shot." The young nation took a step closer to Germany then. "You didn't try to kill your enemies. So neither will we."  
England grinned a little, although his emerald eyes had an almost kind look in them as he spoke, confusing Germany. "You really are young and naïve, though," the old Kingdom said with a hint of laughter in his voice. "If you really believe that any nation would receive the death penalty for starting a war. Kid, none of us would be alive if that was how things go."  
Canada then glanced at England. "So what do we do?" he asked, sounding unsure. "I mean, he doesn't exactly look like he can move…"  
Germany snorted at this. "Those glasses you've got work well for you," he said dryly.  
"No need to joke around," England then sighed, scolding the younger nation. "You _are_ in trouble, Germany, don't underestimate that."  
"Yes, I can _feel_ that!" Germany snapped, drawing in a sharp breath then as he felt a stabbing pain in one of his lungs. Suddenly it became even harder to breathe, and he felt panic welling up quickly.  
" _Dude,_ " America complained after a few seconds of Germany gasping in vain for breath. "Iggy said no joking around."  
"Goddammit, laddie!" Scotland then snapped at America, getting closer and kneeling down beside Germany, who had started coughing by now; the pain in his lung only got worse, and he guessed that the rib that had been poking his lungs earlier had just poked a little too hard. He didn't even notice it when Scotland placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a very careful shake to draw his attention. "He's not joking, Alfred. Shit…"  
Germany could taste blood as he gazed up at the four nations surrounding him, only half aware of everything that was going on anymore. He saw England come closer as well, getting onto his knees in front of him, his emerald gaze calm. "You listen to me now, Germany," he said in a steady, emotionless voice, his expression just as even and calm. "Allistair and I are going home after this battle is over, and you're coming with us. You'll be a prisoner, and considering who you are, I imagine you'll be under high security, too. But as for now…" The Kingdom's gaze suddenly softened just the slightest. "Is this your first time choking?"  
What kind of question was that? Still, since it was, Germany gave a short, stiff nod. England sighed and sat down completely then. "All right, kid, listen well. Choking is nasty business, as you're feeling, but you just need to remind yourself that it cannot kill you. It eases the panic, makes it easier. It is, however, also the one advantage humans have when it comes to choking." He huffed shortly, a wry smile on his lips. "Humans usually only experience it once."  
Beside Germany, Scotland gave him a careful pat on the shoulder. "I know every cell in your body is telling you to fight it, laddie," the ancient nation said, and England nodded in agreement to his brother's words, "but that's for humans to do. You won't die, and you'll make it a whole lot easier if you just let go. Okay?"  
Even America joined in now. "I've done it once, you know. Choking. Once you stop breathing, you will feel your consciousness slip, and in less than a minute you'll be gone. You'll feel a little wobbly when you come to again, sure, but you probably won't notice anything for all the time you're out. It really does feel best to not fight it."  
Germany glanced at each of them, not sure whether or not to listen to their advice. It was true, after all, that everything in him was _screaming_ at him to try and breathe. But then England drew his attention again, and Germany decided to take their word for it and stop fighting for oxygen.  
Just as he did that, England spoke to him, the last words he heard before his consciousness left him.  
"It's over, Germany. Give in."  
And as the young nation's mind slipped into a void, at least he did so with an overwhelming sense of relief.  
 _It's over._

* * *

 **So next chapter will be rounding up WWII in this fic. Which also means, yes, Prussia and Germany will be reunited again. Hopefully that's something to look forward to.**

 **It will take a while though. Prepping for exams has officially started, and the exams themselves will officially start two weeks from now. Oh, the joy... So I will have less time to write. Also when I do have time to write, though, I should do so a little less, because I've been holding a pen and writing a little bit too much just two days into making practice exams. My poor hand needs a rest (unfortunately enough, because _I want to write so badly_ )**

 **But hey, at least you know now that you won't be waiting up to two weeks or (god forbid) even longer for another onslaught of angst, right?  
(DO NOT expect happiness at the beginning of the chapter. I still need to get through the destruction in Königsberg and Berlin, after all. Ending will be fluffy and warm and happy.)**

 **Thanks so much for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	32. Chapter 32

**Don't ask me how, but between all the studying, drawing and gaming I've been doing, I somehow also managed to write this chapter in less than a week.  
(Probably because some scenes in here are more recreations from Trouble ^~^')**

 **Anyway, a big thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope the reunion is to your liking.**

* * *

It was a week after Germany had been captured by the Allies when England and Scotland, who wouldn't be required to be at the front lines anymore during the last stretch of the war, arrived in London. Germany -handcuffed of course, although not on the two nations' initiatives- was with them.  
Back on the mainland, America was rounding up his tasks before he would be sent back to fight the Japanese, whilst Canada took his troops and was advancing north; his goal was to liberate the Benelux countries.  
Meanwhile, German troops were forced back quickly from two sides, being driven out of their occupied territories and back into their own land in the west, the Soviets advancing quickly through East Prussia in the east. Turkey had declared war on Germany earlier that year, and so had the Provisional Government of Hungary; Germany had wondered more than once whether or not Hungary herself supported that decision. He hoped not, but at the same time, he just couldn't blame her if she did, having suffered for a year under German occupation.  
Being a prisoner in the United Kingdom, ironically, gave Germany the greatest sensation of freedom he'd had in the past couple years. He was certain the worst part of it was yet to come, but so long as he ignored the humans that were supposed to guard him (they clearly hated him) and instead focused on England and Scotland whenever he had the chance, he was also certain that he would be much better off here than within Hitler's reach.  
Germany was a little behind England and Scotland when they left the ship, 'guided' by two human soldiers. The two British kingdoms were already on solid ground again, greeted by their brothers. He felt a spark of pity as he saw Wales for the first time since '38; he'd almost forgotten what it was like to see the old nation in his wheelchair, and he still felt as bad for him as he had done 7 years ago.  
Then a child caught his eye, who had just tackled Scotland and was now clinging to his elder brother in pure joy. Even more than on the one picture Germany had ever seen of him, the boy looked very much like Ireland did, with slightly darker and wavier hair but otherwise resembling his eldest brother more than any other. Northern Ireland was still so young and small…  
 _We've hurt even children…_  
Germany had known that, of course, but somehow it was only when he saw Northern Ireland, who had been bombed just like any of his brothers, especially near the start of the war, that realisation hit Germany like a bomb of its own. He looked away, ashamed; none of the nations seemed to pay any attention to their prisoner now, anyway, being much too happy about their reunion after God only knew how long. It was not only his deep shame over what his people -and he himself, too- had caused these nations that made him turn away: he missed Prussia too much, and Austria and Hungary and even the Benelux, Switzerland and Liechtenstein. A reunion like this one was what he had been longing for himself for much too long already.  
But he couldn't stop looking at the five nations for more than a few seconds. Closer to them now, he heard Wales and Ireland, both sounding excited as they told their brothers something which Germany couldn't quite make out yet. Northern Ireland also butted in then, and the child's voice, in his excitement, was loud enough for Germany to also hear what he said.  
"He's been practising really hard, look! Isn't it amazing?"  
Curious, Germany looked back at the five brothers, and his heart nearly skipped a beat at what he saw: getting support from Ireland and Northern Ireland, Wales was, albeit slowly and with obvious difficulty… _standing up._ Germany froze as he watched this, and even when one of the humans behind him gave him a rough push and told him to move, the young nation only straightened himself after stumbling a little and didn't take a single step. He just couldn't take his eyes off of the scene he was watching, and the humans seemed to notice it now, too, for neither of them tried to get Germany to walk further anymore.  
Weakened after spending more than 20 years in a wheelchair, Wales's legs were thin and still a little instable. Germany subconsciously held his breath when his two brothers let go of his arms, but the nation was still on his feet after it. England and Scotland, who had both been stunned silent as much as Germany was, now exclaimed in joy, their words too fast and chaotic for anyone to follow. England hugged his elder brother then, holding him in a tight embrace before Scotland gently pushed him aside and took his place. It lasted only a minute before Wales had to sit down again, but all five nations looked like it had been the best minute in a long, long time.  
"Okay, it's time for you to get a move on again, you damn German," one of the humans behind Germany then said, suddenly not so angry-sounding anymore despite his harsh words.  
Smiling wide after what he'd just witnessed, Germany only nodded and obediently let the men take him to a truck, where the nation was placed in the back along with other German soldiers who had been taken captive in the battle he'd heard was named Operation Varsity.  
Away from war, safe from his psychopathic leader, Germany truly was the closest to happy that he'd been in well over a year now. And having seen and heard the joy of the five nations that made up the United Kingdom and Ireland, having seen a thing as wonderful as he just had…  
He still missed his brother and his cousin so much that it hurt, but at that moment, Germany was simply too happy for the other nations to even feel that pain.

* * *

On the 6th of April, Austria found himself in a hospital in Switzerland, staring helplessly at Prussia, who was kept in a medically induced coma. Austria wondered how much of it was truly medically induced, however, seeing as the assault on Königsberg seemed to have reached its peak after three months of encirclement, attack and mass-emigration of citizens. Since January, the Prussian had been somewhat short of breath due to the pain it caused him in and around his heart, and by his own standards, Prussia had had no noteworthy stamina at all because of it. His chest had started to bruise near the start of February, that bruise increasing in size and severity for two months afterward. Once or twice he'd had an open wound appearing over his heart. Back then, Austria had thought those cuts were already pretty big.  
They had been nothing, however, compared to the gash that had opened up on Prussia's chest that morning, blood simply pouring out of it. The albino had been in so much pain that he struggled to breathe and could barely speak, and they hadn't even been halfway to the hospital (a hellish 2-hour drive from their _lovely_ remote hideaway) before Prussia had passed out, either due to loss of blood or pain or both. Once in hospital, the large wound had been disinfected and closed quickly and the nation had been given a blood transfusion and a rather high dosage of painkillers. Even with those, even unconscious, he had still clearly been in pain though, albeit less so than before he'd received the medicine. After Austria had informed them of his cousin's by now troublesome medical record, the medics had decided a medically induced coma was likely the best, at least most humane course of action; it was easier to keep his blood pressure under control and, since breathing was still an issue, this way they could also keep Prussia on mechanical ventilation. Lastly, he would hopefully not feel quite as much pain this way as he would do if he was conscious -which in turn might help his blood pressure, as being in such pain would cause stress.  
Austria just sighed, praying that the attacks on Prussia's capital would soon stop. His cousin had been through enough already, he didn't deserve any of this. All the people in and around Königsberg who were suffering also didn't deserve to have their lives turned upside-down as their homes were destroyed. Going by the amount of blood Prussia had lost, many had died, too.  
Meanwhile, Vienna was under attack also since a few days ago. He wasn't doing so well himself, and he hoped that he wouldn't end up like Prussia. Just earlier, he'd been checked by a nurse here himself, but he had refused when he'd been offered something against the pain. He wanted his mind as clear as he could keep it.  
After all, it was with a clear mind that he had decided on something. After making sure that Prussia was doing as well as he ever would until this was over, the Austrian left the room in search of staff members, to ask if he could make a phone call. Someone had to know what was going on, and he had made up his mind on who that someone would be.  
So when he stood with a phone in his hand minutes later, he just took a deep breath when the call was answered after what felt like an eternity. His voice was a little hoarse when he spoke.  
"Switzerland, it's me…"

* * *

Little more than a week after Germany had been put behind bars in London, he got a visit from a grim-faced Scotland, and the young nation expected the worst just looking at the man's expression. It was close enough.  
"I've, unfortunately, some bad news for you, Ludwig," the old Kingdom began tentatively. There was a sad shimmer in his pale eyes as he spoke. "You must know how the Red Army has been in and around Königsberg for a while…?"  
Oh no. _No._ Germany couldn't even nod. He felt frozen listening to Scotland.  
The Scot sighed softly when he received no response, although he didn't seem to mind that fact. "We just received word that the attack has just ended. Königsberg has been… mostly destroyed…" He trailed off then, the silence that followed heavy and suffocating.  
Germany felt dizzy as he processed the news. Königsberg was destroyed? He knew how much attacks on one's capital could hurt. What was it like to have the entire city destroyed, then? He didn't even want to imagine. And if mere attacks and sieges could leave someone bedridden… What did such an attack do to a nation? It took him a little while to gather the courage to ask. "Do you know if… if my brother is all right?"  
For a moment, Scotland only looked at him, his gaze apologetic, but then he shook his head with a deep sigh. "I'm afraid I haven't heard anything. But I at least didn't hear anything about Russia getting to him, which is one good thing. It would have been big news if he was, so… He isn't dead, Ludwig," the old Kingdom then said, sounding more confident about that. "That much I know for certain; Prussia is alive, though I'm not sure in what condition. But seeing as his capital was destroyed… probably not too good."  
Germany only gave a short nod, his gaze on the floor, struggling to breathe. Prussia… He had been separated from his dear big brother for too long already, he couldn't lose him for real now. _Please be okay… Please._  
Without even looking at Scotland anymore, Germany stumbled back absent-mindedly and sat down on the weak excuse for a bed that stood in his cell, his shoulders raised almost defensively, as if he could shield himself from reality that way. He bit his lip, unable to drive out the thoughts that were already haunting him, images of Prussia as Königsberg was wiped from the face of the Earth, bleeding and in pain and _dying_. He barely heard it when Scotland, after a little while, said softly that he had to leave.  
"But if there is anything I can do to help, Ludwig… Just tell me if there's anything you need me to do."  
Germany tried to thank him, but he couldn't make any noise. He just lifted his legs onto the bed also, pulling his knees against his chest. Scotland watched for a few seconds longer, then left quietly. Prussia's old friend really was such a gentle soul… Too kind for his own good. Much as he might want to help, though, there was nothing he, or anyone, could do now. After all, no one could provide the young nation with the one thing he longed for, the one thing he'd longed for since October 1943.  
 _Just tell me if there's anything you need._  
He curled up further, placing his forehead on his knees now and hiding his face from view should any humans pass his cell; maybe he couldn't hide his despair, but he could at least hide his expression. Tears.  
"I just need my big brother…"

* * *

It wasn't until the end of April that Germany felt truly hopeful again. Hopeful and terrified.  
The Allied Forces had reached Berlin.  
He just lay on his bed, back turned to the bars of his cell, putting pressure on his chest against the pain and concentrating on his breathing. Ignoring the searing pain proved more difficult than ever before, but he had to try. Instead of thinking about his beloved city, his capital and his home, about the poor innocent citizens there, he forced himself to think about the bright side of it all: if the Allies captured Berlin, that meant the war had to be over. It was a matter of days now. Hours, maybe.  
All the death, all the destruction… It was a horrible thing indeed.  
But at least this was the end of it, also. It had to be.  
"Hitler will get what he's got coming," the young nation told himself softly, clenching his jaws in pain. "I'll see Prussia again, and Austria, Hungary, everyone." He curled up a little, every muscle in his body tense as another wave of pain emanated from his heart. "I'll get to talk to Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg, too. Tell them how sorry I am. That I'd do anything to make it up to them." Although he didn't expect his cousins to accept his apology, not ever. Too much had happened, and Germany himself had played a significant role in it, also. He hadn't seen Luxembourg since he'd attacked him like he had, on the day they invaded the small country. Hopefully it hadn't taken him too long to recover.  
The Italian brothers, too, deserved an apology. How could Germany have ever blamed them for leaving the war? Granted, he wasn't happy about when they declared war on their former allies, he never would be, but he shouldn't have reacted like he had. After all, he wanted out of the war, too. They just found a way to do so.  
Suddenly, pain flared up again, stronger than before, and he clenched his jaws tightly in an effort to keep quiet. _All will be fine soon,_ he told himself over and over. It was becoming some sort of mantra in his head. _I just need to get through this first._  
He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard something outside his cell, but it must have been quite a while. Germany could tell that it was the United Kingdom, but he didn't respond to their presence.  
Not until Scotland spoke. "Ludwig," the Kingdom began, "get over here for a minute, please. We've got some important news for you."  
With a soft huff and gritting his teeth in pain, Germany sat up, looking at the nations. They were all there, except Ireland, who was likely not keen on staying in London. The young German sighed. "Is is about Gilbert?" That was the only news he was interested in.  
He wasn't surprised, but still disappointed, when Scotland shook his head. "We just got word from the Front: the Soviets have reached Berlin and are ready to attack. Your capital will be bombed, your people will die, and the war will be lost." The red-haired nation sighed then, looking everything but pleased with it himself. "We just want you to prepare for it; the first time is always the hardest, but… you'll make it."  
Germany narrowed his eyes when he heard that last sentence, feeling a rush of anger. "I've had my capital bombed before," he reminded them grimly. "I've lost a World War before. You know that." World War. Well, this one certainly was a World War, and he supposed the Great War some 30 years before could be considered one, too. Why was it, that the only two wars he'd been through just _had_ to be the worst wars mankind had seen so far?  
England gave a short nod, his arms crossed over his chest as he stood there, staring at Germany with a hard emerald gaze. "We _know_ , kid," he said bluntly, only the slightest shiver in his voice betraying that he _did_ actually give a damn, although he was trying very hard not to show it. "Still, this is different. I felt, somewhat, what it is like to have your capital destroyed like your brother's was, like yours will be soon." Germany nearly flinched when he heard that, feeling another wave of pain in his chest. England went on to describe what it was like. Germany got gradually more scared with every word he heard. "It feels as if your heart it ripped from your chest," England told him, "then put back in, only to be ripped out all over again. You just need to know what's going to happen, kid, so that you'll be prepared for it."  
The mere idea of it terrified Germany, and he decided to stop pretending he didn't care. It was useless, anyway. He couldn't do it anymore. "Y-you mean… it will get _worse_?" he asked, horrified, as he got up from where he sat. "It… It feels like I've been having a heart attack all night! It will… get _worse_ than this?" As far as he could tell, it was the worst attack he'd experienced so far, and now they were telling him it was only the start of it? England told him it was going to get many times worse yet.  
That wasn't the only thing that sent his mind reeling, though. The mention of Prussia hurt him almost as much as the bombs on Berlin did. There was barely anything left of Königsberg. What pain Prussia must have been in. He imagined it must have been enough to make the nation scream in pain, the one thing Germany had never known him to do. "T-then my brother…" he choked out, feeling sick as he automatically pictured Prussia curled up on the floor, yowling in pain. A picture his mind had conjured up too many times over the past weeks. "M-my brother…"  
Suddenly, Scotland spun around and left, surprising his younger brothers. Germany didn't pay any attention to it as he closed his eyes and tried to force out any thoughts about Prussia. He stumbled backward, sitting down on the edge of his bed again.  
"Hey, uh," Wales began hesitantly. Germany looked up, silent. The old nation was looking at him with careful pity shimmering in his eyes. "I just wanted to… Just… Hang in there, okay? It will hurt, but you can get through it all right. Just try to stay calm, and you'll be fine."  
Pressing his lips together to stay quiet instead of giving the retort that lay on the tip of his tongue -'Because _anyone_ can live whilst having their heart blown to pieces!'- Germany just nodded.  
For some reason, Northern Ireland decided to speak up now; he'd tried to talk to Germany before, but Germany had never been interested in chit-chat. Right now he could use the distraction, though. The child's words surprised him. "I've always wanted to meet you, you know," the little boy blurted out, and Germany's eyes widened a little in astonishment. Of all the things he had expected the little nation to say… North went on: "Allistair always told really cool stories about you and your, err… your _Bruder._ " He was trying to speak German now? That was actually rather adorable, and his pronunciation wasn't all that bad. The boy smiled a little. "He told me that you're both really strong, proud nations and also really wonderful people. I've… really always wanted to meet you." He turned his gaze to the floor then, a little embarrassed.  
Germany was actually quite touched by his words, but he just sighed. "Well," he muttered, "I'm sorry for not being like your mental image of me."  
Northern Ireland shook his head immediately. "No, you're _exactly_ like I imagined!" Smiling wide, he added that he certainly wasn't disappointed now that he'd finally met Germany.  
Germany couldn't even find the words for a proper response anymore. But he didn't have the time to reply, either: Scotland came back now, a key in one hand. For a moment, Germany almost thought the old nation was letting him go, but instead Scotland went into the cell himself and then closed the door again, his pale blue gaze fixed on Germany as he stood in front of him. With a firm pat on the young nation's shoulder, he said: "I will… _Ich… Ich werde dich nun nicht allein lassen._ Not with the bombings about to get worse."  
Germany was even more astonished now. Northern Ireland had just copied the word Germany had used when he had mentioned Prussia. Scotland was actually speaking German to him, even though it was a little hard to follow with his pronunciation of it. Even more confusing yet were his words, that he wouldn't leave Germany on his own now. Germany glanced at the rest of the United Kingdom, but they all looked as confused as Germany was. "Th-thank you, Scot… Allistair," he just choked out eventually, truly grateful for the offer.  
Scotland turned around and told his brothers to just go, that it was going to be a long night here and they also probably didn't want to witness this. Just that warning sent a jolt of fear through Germany, but then he forced himself to look at Northern Ireland; a child like him shouldn't watch a nation while their capital is about to be destroyed, that much was true. He just told himself, even though he knew it was a lie, that it was because of his youngest brother that Scotland had said such a thing.  
When all three of them left, Scotland sighed and sat down beside Germany, placing one hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "Now just keep breathing no matter what, all right?" the old Kingdom said in a gentle tone. "Try to relax your muscles for as long as you can -I don't expect you to not tense up at all during the attack, I mean… That's basically impossible."  
Germany nodded stiffly as yet another wave of pain passed through his body, stronger than before. Scotland watched for a moment, then shook his head. "Okay, forget what I said about relaxing, it's not going to work." Again, Germany nodded, agreeing completely for once. After a little while, Scotland spoke again. "Maybe this will work, though," he said with a shiver of joy in his voice as he took a piece of paper out of his pocket, folded it open, then handed it to Germany.  
Confused, the young nation took it. A letter. To his surprise, he recognised Switzerland's handwriting.

 _Scotland,_

 _It has come to my attention that you and your brothers have captured and imprisoned Germany. I myself recently found out that Austria and Prussia have been taking refuge within my borders for some time now.  
Whilst I am and will always be fully neutral, I do wish to give my cousins a chance to reunite as soon as the war is over, which I believe should not be much longer now. Therefore, I would be very grateful if we could make an arrangement to make this happen when the chance arrives.  
Please note that none of your soldiers, nor any of the Axis Powers' soldiers, are welcome within my land for any other purpose than seeking refuge. That has not changed.  
If the information I received was wrong, please do burn this letter. There's no need for any government to know about Prussia and Austria being here. I hope you understand._

 _Sincerely,  
Switzerland_

Despite the bombing getting heavier and heavier, Germany's aching heart fluttered when he read the letter. Beside him, Scotland flashed him a smile. "You'll be allowed to return home just as soon as the war is over, Ludwig," the old Kingdom told him. "And your brother will be waiting for you there."  
For a moment, Germany once again lost the power of speech, already the umpteenth time that evening. Then he just smiled. "Thank you."

Hours later, the attack on Berlin became so bad that Germany lost consciousness. He was transported to hospital soon after. In the end, it took over a week for the young nation to wake up again.  
By then, there was a ceasefire, and Germany had surrendered. Hitler was dead.  
The war was over.

* * *

The United Kingdom kept the promise Scotland had made, although Germany still had to stay in hospital a little longer after the official surrender, so 'just as soon as the war was over' didn't quite happen. The alternative was just as good, though. On 16 May, both Germany and the United Kingdom nation were in a plane to Switzerland, where Prussia would be waiting for them.  
Germany's mind was in a daze and the entire flight was a blur to him. All he could think about was that the hell of war was finally over, that after so long he would finally see his brother again. They had lost the war and Prussia was still alive and well -his fears had all been for nothing. He would be ashamed of it, were it not that the prospect of holding his brother in his arms again was far more important to him.  
Then, when he finally stepped out of the small aircraft, he felt as if his heart could give out. Prussia was standing there, at a safe distance from the plane. Practically the moment Germany's feet touched solid ground, Prussia came running, limping a little but surprisingly swift, and Germany himself could only take a few steps before his elder brother basically jumped on him, tackling the young nation in a suffocating hug. Germany swung his arms around Prussia and returned the embrace just as firmly. It was as if all the pain and all the worry of the past years was washed away in an instant, replaced by a comfortable warmth and relief and joy.  
" _Two years,_ Ludwig!" Prussia choked out, voice quivering. Germany couldn't tell whether it was joy he was hearing, or if his brother was on the verge of tears. He himself was feeling both at the same time, anyway. "Almost two goddamn years since I last saw you! Dammit, little brother, don't you ever think I'll leave you alone that long ever again!"  
"Just so long as you don't think I'll ever _let_ you," Germany answered, his voice tight with emotion, as he held his brother a little closer, which was nearly impossible. He wanted to ask what had happened, why Prussia had left and why had that lasted so long, but he didn't want to ruin the mood with questions like those. For now he was content with holding his brother, feeling his arms wrapped around himself, hearing his voice. Even his smell was comforting now.  
Prussia took a deep breath. "I missed you so much, Ludwig," he said softly. The albino then stepped back, still holding on to Germany, but he wanted to actually see his little brother. Prussia's red eyes were shining with warmth and joy and love. For a split second, Germany thought there was something weird about Prussia's irises, but then something flashed in the albino's eyes, and he laughed dryly. Or were it some weird-sounding sort of sobs? Germany still couldn't tell. Maybe it was both. "W-well, damn," the Prussian stammered, looking Germany up and down in astonishment. "You're actually taller than me now! Who would've thought…? My little brother isn't my little brother anymore! Heh… When did that happen…?"  
With a jolt of surprise, Germany realised his brother was right. Since halfway through the 30s, he'd been as tall as Prussia, but sometime during the war he must've outgrown his elder brother. He doubted it had been during the two years they'd been apart, the last years of the war weren't exactly the right conditions for a nation to develop like that. If it really had been before then, he hadn't noticed it, and clearly neither had Prussia.  
The Free State seemed to be having conflicted feelings for a moment, having to look up to look his little brother in the eyes. "I… Well… Damn." He sighed, then chuckled softly and hugged Germany again. "I love you, Ludwig."  
Germany held his brother tightly, silent. He wasn't about to let go anytime soon anymore. Prussia seemed to share that thought. He didn't know how long they stood like that, but it must have been a while before they finally decided it was time to let go of one another.  
"I've been so worried about you all this time, Ludwig," Prussia sighed then.  
"Likewise," was the only thing Germany could get over his lips for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and sighed. "W-when I came back from Rome and you weren't there… I thought you'd gone to Königs-… Err… East." Sadness had sparked in Prussia's eyes the moment Germany had started saying his capital's name, and the younger nation could understand that feeling; he didn't want to go back to Berlin and see all the destruction just yet. He shook his head and pushed those thoughts away for now. "I… panicked when I couldn't get hold of you." Okay, he couldn't keep this up any longer. He _needed_ to ask. "What… what happened?"  
Prussia only blinked at him sadly, then looked away for a moment with a deep sigh. "I did something insanely stupid," he mumbled. "I… I don't get how I could have been so rash and stupid and…" He shook his head. "This… isn't the place to talk about this, Ludwig. I'm sorry. Austria can tell you a lot, too -it's probably best if we sit down with the three of us."  
Germany nodded, agreeing to those terms. Realising only then that the United Kingdom had already left again (how they failed to notice an airplane taking off was beyond them), the two brothers left also.

* * *

It was evening before they reached the house Prussia and Austria had been living in for a year, driven there by Austria, who had apparently come with Prussia to the airfield but had wanted to give the two brothers some time alone first. Germany had done his catching up with Austria now, too, or at least the most vital parts of it.  
Austria looked well, considering the Vienna Offensive had ended only about a month ago. When Germany commented on this, Austria proudly declared that he hadn't been doing his job in the concentration camps for over a year, so he was bound to be doing better than before he'd left.  
In turn, Austria mentioned that his younger cousin looked better than expected, also, and Germany just answered that, while the humans were a bit of a handful, the nations representing the United Kingdom at least were surprisingly kind to him, considering they had been enemies for years.  
Prussia had smiled at this, saying something about it being a shame that he hadn't gotten the chance to speak to Scotland, at least. Both Prussia and Austria were as amazed as Germany had been when Germany said that Wales was, against all odds, slowly beginning to walk again.  
"It wasn't that bad, being their prisoner," Germany concluded eventually. "Much better than being within Hitler's reach, anyway. Still, it's good to not be behind bars anymore."

Once inside, the three nations started talking more seriously, and Germany listened with bated breath to his brother's story.  
"I… kind of… tried to assassinate Hitler," the Prussian began. "I wanted to help you -everyone- so bad… I figured the only way to do so was to try and end the war. The only way to do that was to end Hitler first, of course."  
Germany couldn't help feeling somewhat angry over this. "You always told me it was not a nation's task to interfere in things like that!" he told his brother accusingly, and Prussia flinched at these words. "You told me, time and time again, that a nation could not get rid of his leader one way or the other in order to change the course of politics or anything. And then you try to _assassinate_ our leader?" If only he had told Germany of his plans, they could have done it together.  
Prussia didn't dare to look his little brother in the eye for a moment then. "Well, we can't, I learnt that much for a fact," he said with a quivering voice. "I tried to kill the man and I failed. And that's when things went so steeply downhill, it was… like plunging off a cliff." He shivered as he looked up again, gaze locking with Germany's. "He… he had me locked up in Auschwitz after that. F-for four months."  
Those words dropped like a bomb on Germany, and his thoughts came to a halt just then, pausing on that sentence: Prussia had been locked up in Auschwitz. Germany had known all along that Hitler might well have been capable of imprisoning even his own nations if they stood up to him, but not once had he believed it would really happen. He had hoped it wouldn't. Hearing what Prussia had done to 'deserve' such a punishment, Germany wasn't surprised his psychopathic leader had sent the Free State to a concentration camp, but it was still a horrible thought.  
It also wasn't too surprising anymore when Prussia said that it had been Austria who had gotten him -and also Poland- out of there. Germany could have figured that part out himself, now that he knew the start of it. From that point onward, Prussia and Austria had been fugitives, and after spending some time with Hungary, they had been on the road before they'd managed to secure this little house.  
"We've been trying to keep track of the war as much as we could," Austria said, sighing softly. "It was harder than we thought it would be. We couldn't do anything that might give away our position."  
"I wanted to go and look for you," Prussia added, a guilty look in his eyes as he stared up at Germany. "Believe me, I would have gone through all of it again if it meant being with you, but…" Fear flashed in his red irises then, a deep terror, and Germany immediately shook his head.  
"It's okay, brother," he said reassuringly, flashing his elder brother a small smile. "I'd rather just know that you were safe. It's probably also better that you were here and not in any danger when Königsberg was… you know." He couldn't help bringing it up. He had not noticed much of the attack on Berlin after he'd passed out that first night; he'd been unconscious for days, a -thankfully brief- coma. Hopefully Prussia had had it somewhat similar; whilst a coma was nothing to celebrate, naturally, it was at least a way out of the pain.  
Prussia shrugged at the mention of Königsberg. "Yeah, well," he muttered, clearly not liking the subject. "It would've been even better to have easier access to a hospital than we have from here. Another price to pay for the remote sanctuary we've got." The Free State was quiet then, his eyes brimming with sadness. After a minute or so, shook his head slowly. "There's barely anything left of the city," he choked out softly. "And what's left is under Soviet control. My capital is _gone._ "  
Germany was quiet for a moment, unsure what to say. Before he could say anything, though, Prussia smiled wryly, obviously trying hard to stay positive-minded. "I'll never forget my beloved Königsberg, though," he stated as he was buttoning down his shirt a bit, down to his midriff. None too enthusiastically, he showed Germany the long, still pink scar on his chest. Grinning wide but with grief laying clear in his red eyes, the Prussian said: "I've got a permanent reminder of it!" He forced a little laugh, but Germany stopped him; there was no need to pretend he heartbroken over the loss of his capital.  
Germany explained what had happened during the time Berlin had been under attack then. He, too, had a scar over his heart now. Austria said he could join the club, then; the Vienna Offensive had not left him uninjured, either. As Germany was talking, Prussia stared at him intently, and suddenly Germany realised what it was that made his brother's eyes look weird: there was some blue in his eyes now, in the bottom of his irises. A very light blue, looking somewhat violet near the edges. How had that happened? The young nation decided not to ask about it -Prussia had noticed his stare and averted his gaze self-consciously.  
Prussia hugged him when he was done talking, holding him tight. The two were silent for a moment, but Prussia eventually spoke softly. "I've missed you so much, Ludwig," he whispered. "But I am also so, _so proud of you_ , how well you've handled everything all this time."  
Germany just took a deep breath, relishing his brother's presence. "I love you too, brother," he whispered back, still finding it hard to believe that after 20 long months, he was finally by Prussia's side again. It really did feel as if the world was finally normal again. "More than you could know…"

The war might be over, but both nations knew that they were by far not out of the woods yet; there would be consequences to a war of this scale, and none of it would be easy. But they also knew for a certainty that they would pull through, that one day, everything would be all right again.  
Because difficult as the future might become, they knew that the worst was behind them. Whatever was to come, they could take it. Together.

* * *

 **So yeah, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next one will have some more happiness. There will be at least one or two chapters before 1947, so that onslaught will have to wait.**

 **War trials are coming up too, though. But at least the chapters won't be 100% angst for a little while.**

 **Thanks for reading, everyone!**


	33. Chapter 33

**One of these days, I'll find out why, whenever I say that I'll probably be slower in my writing, I'm actually faster than average, and when I think I can keep up a chapter a week, I sometimes struggle.  
** _ **One of these** **days...!**_

 **I honestly don't get it, though. But hey, I'm not complaining at the moment. Hopefully neither are any of you.**

 **Seriously, though. The day after tomorrow is my first exam, and from there on it's 2,5 weeks until I'm done. So I still can't promise to keep up this writing pace.**

 **Anyways, thanks once again to everyone who read, reviewed, followed and/or favourited! You're _awesome!  
_ (Thanks also for all the good-luck wishes on the exams I've had for the past weeks! I'll do my best! Always nice to get some words of support, though, so really, thanks all!)**

 **And hey, guess what? A 90%-happy chapter! (Round and about. Mostly happy, anyway!) I hope you'll enjoy!**

* * *

Soon after their reunion, Prussia and Germany had both been ordered to return to their own country, while Austria was sent to Vienna -the nation had been lucky enough that his house was still standing after the Vienna Offensive. His two cousins didn't quite have that luck, although the living space they were assigned was actually an improvement in comparison to what their house had been like.  
That is, if one ignored the Russians who had taken control of the place and were now busy preparing it for a conference that was to take place there. They were mostly busy renovating, but both Germany and Prussia did feel like they were being kept under surveillance. But then, they probably shouldn't have expected to get any other treatment than this.  
Prussia didn't really like the renovations, which he made very clear. The moment he saw that the Soviets were planting flowers in the shape of a red star outside Cecilienhof, he started protesting, stating that a home of Hohenzollerns should never be tainted by such filth. That, of course, got him into trouble, though not too much. It ended with Prussia getting punched in the face, having a split lip for about half an hour before that was all healed up again, and a foul mood for the remainder of the day.  
Germany mostly kept away from the Soviets, trying hard to get his life back on track. One afternoon, wanting to get some fresh air and something to get his mind off the war and the situation he and his brother were in now, he actually offered to help with renovations in the garden; he, and after some time also Prussia, planted a few trees together with the Russians. They didn't speak much as they did so, but at least it was all done without fighting.

They got a surprise one day, in early July. The two nations were in one of the rooms that had been assigned to them, both reading quietly, sitting side by side on a couch. Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and before they could even answer, one of the Russians 'working' around here came in, holding a box.  
Prussia sighed at this, annoyed. "Dude," he complained as he sent the human a quick glare. "I thought we weren't supposed to interfere with one another much?"  
The human returned the glare for a moment, but then he cleared his throat. "There's been a delivery for you," he said in broken German. "You're lucky about it, too; we were going to confiscate it, but Russia was adamant on returning it to you." Having said this, the man walked over to the table that stood in the room, dropped the box on it and left, but not before stating that there was more to come.  
Prussia stared after him until he was out the door, but beside him, Germany already stood up and went to check the contents of the box. While the Prussian was still trying to wrap his head around that sudden, short and slightly confusing interruption (didn't that man say that Russia was in the area?), Germany suddenly called to him. "Come see, Gilbert!" he said, completely taken by surprise but pleasantly so.  
Even more confused and curious now, Prussia put aside the book he had been reading and went to his little brother's side. Peering into the box, he saw it full of books, their ages varying greatly going by the state the covers were in. Years were inscribed on the covers, in various different ways; embroidered in it, written in golden ink on the darker covers and black on those that were lighter, some had the numbers cut into the leather.  
Prussia recognised each and every one of the books. "My journals…?" he choked out, wondering how the Russians had gotten their hands on them; with difficulty, Prussia and Germany together had managed to convince the Nazi government of the historical value Prussia's journals had, and thus they had been stored away safely along with many valuable pieces of art and historical artefacts, to be protected from the bombings and raids.  
Germany was smiling as he picked one of the books out of the box, wiping dust off its leather jacket. _1525_ was embroidered on it in golden thread. "That's the year you became a Duchy, isn't it?" he asked, opening it with great care. The pages were a deep yellowish-brown with age, a bit flaky. The ink inside was smudged here and there and had faded over the years, but was still legible. "I can't believe you've kept them all those years, _centuries._ "  
Prussia chuckled for a moment, overjoyed to have his precious collection of journals back. "That one's 420 years old… God, that's more than half my own age!"  
"It's roughly six times my age," Germany put in, a hint of awe in his voice as he said this.  
Prussia was already looking through the other books inside. Clearly the Soviets hadn't cared about returning the books in chronological order, but he didn't mind -it was good enough to have them back in his possession. "Mind you, there's many books that I don't have anymore," the albino mused, half to himself, as he flipped through a journal that had lasted him from 1790 to 1793. Just years after Fritz had passed away. He really hadn't been at his happiest during that time… Putting that journal on the table, Prussia picked out another one, very old and worn. 13th century. "Some were lost somewhere out on the battlefield. I guess that's one of the risks for wanting to keep records of your battles, also. Or they were just too damaged, or perhaps stolen… Some were just gone one day, and I never found out what happened to them."  
His heart skipped a beat when he saw a book with a dark blue-grey leather cover, silver numbers embroidered into it. _1623._ For a moment, Prussia could only stare at it, but then he quickly got it out of the box, happier to have that specific journal in his possession now than any other he'd seen so far, minus maybe the one from 1525, which was a special year to him also. But this one had a value unlike most others he'd written. "Brandenburg…" He sighed, relishing the memories that came flashing through his mind as he held this journal. "This is the year she and I got married, Ludwig. The Personal Union had already been official since before then, but… Well, the Thirty Years' War brought some complications." He opened it carefully, flipping to the page he'd filled on 14 July that year, his and Brandenburg's wedding day. For some time, he had been ashamed about what he'd written back then, but now he almost laughed at the fond memory. If only he had known back then how much he would come to love the girl he had been forced to marry.  
"Here, read," he said, handing the journal, still open on that page, to Germany, grinning as he did so. "You'll enjoy it, no doubt. Try not to piss yourself laughing, all right?"  
Germany only gave him a weird look, clearly confused, before he started reading. Meanwhile, Prussia continued looking through the box. He wouldn't take them all out -after all, their stay at the Cecilienhof would be temporary, and it would be hassle to unpack hundreds of journals in total if they had to move again soon. He had just put back the first journal when Germany barked out a laugh.  
"The Apocalypse?" the young nation choked out, fighting back laughter, as he stared at his brother in a combination of astonishment and pure amusement. "You declared your wedding day the _Apocalypse?_ I suddenly feel bad for Brandenburg, you know."  
Prussia chuckled at this. "Don't," he just told his little brother as he packed the rest of his journals again, too. "I do believe she already had a small crush on me by the time we got married, given, but she hated it as much as I did. It took us a few _years_ before we even slept side by side for the first time, and that was only because there was no other option at the time. Hell, it wasn't until after the Thirty Years' War that we really started to see something in the whole marriage-thing." Remembering one night when he'd found Brandenburg reading this particular journal, the Prussian laughed softly, his heart warming at the memory. "She read it once and she loved it, to be honest." The girl had been on the floor laughing when she'd read what Prussia had written about their wedding day. It had taken Prussia nearly an hour to stop her from being giggly afterward.  
Germany, still chuckling, shook his head and closed the book. He was just about to put it back inside the box with the others when something seemed to catch his eye. "Isn't that-?" He carefully placed _1623_ inside the box, then grabbed another one: golden brown cover, golden ink. 1871. Germany stared at it for a moment, eyes wide, and Prussia laughed once again.  
"Go ahead," the Free State said warmly, giving his little brother a pat on the shoulder as he spoke. "Though I doubt you'll like reading it, to be honest with you."  
Germany didn't need to be told twice. Prussia went to sit down again in the meantime, continuing with what he'd been reading before this wonderful little surprise had interrupted it. If this was all thanks to Russia, then he had something to thank the little fucker for. Much as he disliked the man, this had been a good move of his, and Prussia was extremely grateful. He just hoped no one had read his journals before returning them to him, but even if they had, he wouldn't mind it too much; it wouldn't be the first time and also not the last time that anyone had touched them without his consent.  
Germany seemed to have found the entry Prussia had written on the day he was born. "You called me a _thing?!_ " Prussia looked up with a wide grin. Germany was staring at him with a wide-eyed, indignant stare. He didn't seem to know whether or not to be angry about it. "You… called me... a _thing,_ " he said again, as if to ask for confirmation that this was true.  
Prussia just couldn't hold back his laughter, although he really did try. "Well, what did you expect?" he choked out between his laughter. "Ludwig, you were about the last thing -err, _person_ \- I had expected to happen, and then you were just suddenly _there._ I was shocked. Didn't know what to do or think." He forced himself to stop laughing then, gesturing to his little brother to come sit beside him again. "I did love you from day one, though. Even before I had figured out what to do with you, I already didn't want to ever let go of you anymore. Except when I had to write, of course," he added teasingly, ruffling up Germany's hair as the younger nation sat down on the couch next to him. Germany just shrugged him off with a huff, though he was smiling also. "The first thing you did upon meeting me," Prussia then said with a wide smile on his face, "was poking my face all over with those tiny hands you had, from the very moment I lifted you up."  
Germany snorted at this. "So that's why you've been doing it to me all my life," he said jokingly, giving Prussia a friendly shove. "It was all to get revenge! Don't you think you made up for that tenfold after, say, the first 20 years of my life? The other 50-something really were unnecessary."  
"I'll decide for myself what I deem necessary, thank you very much," Prussia just answered, raising his chin defiantly. Then he huffed, opened his book again and turned his back to Germany. A second later, he let himself fall back, slamming down onto his little brother's lap. Feeling quite comfortable like that, he just started reading without saying a word.  
Well, not until Germany found his voice back after a few seconds of surprise, anyway. "W-what are you-?" he stammered, sounding completely taken aback by his brother's sudden 'weird' behaviour.  
"You're the taller one now, Ludwig," Prussia stated flatly. "You're right, I've made up for all the poking you've put me through, but we've got years to go before I've made use of your lap enough to make up for how much you did _that_ when you were little. Get used to it, I'd suggest; I'll be doing this a lot more often from now on." He moved his book away to be able to look his little brother in the eye for a moment, his own red eyes twinkling mischievously. "Your legs are surprisingly comfortable, you know," he said in a teasing tone. "Make sure to exploit that whenever you finally decide to get yourself a girlfriend, all right?"  
The Prussian had to hold back his laughter yet again when Germany blushed, then glared at his elder brother. "What do you mean, _'finally'_?" the younger nation muttered in annoyance, sounding a bit embarrassed. "If I recall correctly, Brandenburg was the first girl you ever had a relationship with. How many _centuries_ old were you?" He huffed and averted his gaze. "And after that -correct me if I'm wrong- the only people you've had _anything_ with were Fritz and Hungary. That's _three_ people over 753 years. S-so who are you to add 'finally' to the sentence when you're talking about me and relationships?"  
Prussia hummed, enjoying how easy it could be to embarrass his little brother like that. He could be so awkward. The albino was just glad none of that had changed in the time they had been separated. "Well, that's true," he replied calmly. "Although I did once kiss Scotland, mind you, but that doesn't really count. But you know, it may have taken me centuries to get my first relationship -through arranged marriage, at that- but at least I kept it up for the majority of a _century._ Fritz was short, I'll admit, but what can you expect? He was a human, the age difference began to matter quite quickly. Also, his father was a problem, too, so we decided to call it quits before he could find out. As for Hungary, she and I have a very stable relationship at the moment, and I'm happy with that."  
Germany blinked at this last sentence, the shocked and somewhat disgusted expression he'd had after Prussia had mentioned having kissed Scotland fading in a heartbeat. "Sorry, what?" he just said dryly. "You call your… whatever it is you have with Hungary _stable?_ "  
Prussia shrugged and hid behind his book again. "Well, yes," he answered calmly. "It's nice and all, but I must admit it isn't anything _really_ special -it's not like I can't bear to be away from her and definitely not the other way around, either, I'm sure, but we just make the most of it whenever we are together. So yeah, it's nothing too special and it never really has been. That's stability."  
Germany was silent for a moment, then sighed. "…Touché. But can you just… not bring this topic up anymore?" He sounded a little bit agitated, but not too badly so. "I've just never really thought about it before and I haven't had the time, either. I'm also not particularly looking for any kind of relationship, so… Just don't bring it up again."  
"Whatever you say," Prussia replied with another shrug. "But I've got to say, though, you've become quite handsome. Truth just needs to be told sometimes, sorry. The ladies would totally be into you." Smirking, he added: "Well, not as much as they would be into me, if I hadn't had albinism. I swear, having red eyes can be _such_ an obstacle sometimes; there will be the occasional person who likens my eyes to rubies and stuff, but you know… Cousins don't count. It was sweet when Belgium said that -she was just a child then- but that's about all, too."  
"Brother…"  
"Mhm?"  
"I asked you to shut up about it."  
"So you did, Ludwig. And I don't care."

* * *

Near the end of July, the conference held at the Cecilienhof had been under way for about a week, and during that time, Prussia and Germany were under more surveillance than ever before; they were carefully kept away from the rooms the conference was held in, and more than once they had been locked in one room at the other end of the building, Russian soldiers guarding the door.  
One day, however, the security was lacking, and the two nations were able to slip away. Prussia was the only one actually doing so, though; Germany stated that he had no intention of getting into trouble, not when their life had just calmed down as much as it possibly could so shortly after a war of this scale. Prussia, on the other hand, didn't want to sit and wait until the end of the conference to hear what would happen to them.  
It was easier than he had expected to get close to the conference room, but when he was nearly at the door, he was caught by two humans, one British and one Russian.  
As the two soldiers were restraining him, the Prussian just shrugged. "Hey, come on," he said in as casual a voice as he could manage. "If you knew that people were making what to you would be life-changing decisions on the other side of that door, wouldn't you want to know what's being said? You would probably do the same thing and you know it." Prussia tried hard to smile a little, hoping to sway the two humans that way. "It's nothing but natural curiosity, yeah? So let's be civil and… put that gun away…" he added a little nervously as he eyed the weapon in the Russian's hand.  
The Russian man scoffed, but he did actually put his weapon away after that. He spoke to the English soldier for just a moment, and that man apparently spoke Russian. Prussia didn't speak much of that language, but he knew that they were discussing what to do with him.  
Much to his surprise, they decided to take him to the conference room after all.

All eyes turned on the three men standing in the doorway when they walked in. It was the English soldier who explained that Prussia had been snooping around, trying to get information. Prussia only rolled his eyes at this and muttered that there wasn't much information to be gathered just walking through the corridors.  
"Do you deny, then, that you were hoping to get information?" the American President, Truman, asked him then, clearly agitated over this interruption.  
Nervous, Prussia couldn't help laughing for a moment. "Oh, certainly not," he answered, still chuckling a little. "That would be stupid, I mean, it's obvious that I was, isn't it?" He glanced around for a moment, unsure where to look. He wasn't used to being stared at by so many people all at once anymore, and considering they were all against him, it made him very uncomfortable to be here right now. "I just mean to say," he went on a little more quietly. "Well, I… I haven't heard or read or seen a thing yet, so if you just sent me back now and make those guards do their jobs, well, no harm done, right? You can just continue your little tea party here, and I can… err… read a book or something."  
Naturally, the humans were not amused. Not in the slightest. It was then that Prussia saw sense in his little brother's decision to stay put, and also that he once again cursed his own occasional thoughtlessness. Well, at least he wouldn't suffer the same consequences last time he made a bad decision and it went so foreseeably and horribly wrong as it did now.  
…Right?  
Much to Prussia's surprise and also relief, there was one person who was amused, though, but he wasn't one of the humans; America started laughing loudly when Prussia finished speaking. " _Tea party!_ " he echoed between his laughter. "Good one!" _…What?_ It was likely the worst joke Prussia had made in the past 100 years, if not longer. But the Free State decided not to respond in any way, and just let America do whatever it was he was going to do. It might just proof to be enough to save him right now.  
America stopped laughing only a minute or so later, and thankfully all stares were turned on him rather than Prussia by then. The young nation looked at Prussia with a wide grin. "Dude, I totally get ya, but it's still pretty darn stupid what you just did, yeah?"  
Prussia shrugged, a little taken aback by this. "Well, to be honest, I've seen worse…" he stammered in response.  
"Really? You'll have to tell me that story later, because I certainly haven't!" America answered with a shiver of laughter still in his voice and blue eyes twinkling with joy. The young blonde then looked around the room at the humans and also Russia, who was the only other nation present -no one from the United Kingdom had been there all month. "Let's give the man the benefit of the doubt here and just let him go. I mean, even if he heard something, what can he do with that information? He and Germany are completely cut off here and under near-constant watch; there's no way he'll be able to leak classified info."  
The humans still didn't seem to like the idea, though, but America didn't back down. Turning to his President, he said: "Hey, you remember me telling you about the Revolutionary War, right? That, without that man right there-" He pointed to Prussia. "-we might not have won our independence at all? I know that he's been our enemy for the past couple years, but I still believe we, as Americans, owe him one."  
Russia smiled when some of the Americans -even Truman- seemed to consider this. "How nice," the tall nation said happily. "I didn't know you and Prussia were friends, America?" He then looked at Prussia with a wide smile and shining eyes. "I hope you and I can be friends now, too, now that we're not enemies anymore."  
Prussia felt sick at the mere idea, but since the only people who seemed to stand up for him now were his two fellow nations, he decided it was best not to anger either of them now. "Uh…" he stammered in response, feeling his stomach twist with apprehension. "S-sure… Why not…"  
Russia looked genuinely happy for a moment when Prussia said this, then he turned back to the humans and America. "He went through all that trouble just to hear what's going to happen to him and his little brother," the nation said calmly. "Why not tell him? We would all be unbearably curious in his situation, too, and America was right when he said that he can't do anything with the information, anyway. What difference would it make if we tell him now or next week or maybe next month?"  
"There is some truth to that," the British Prime Minister, Churchill, mused then, half to himself. He was quiet for a moment longer, thinking, then nodded. "We might as well tell the man what we have discussed earlier this morning; he'll need to hear it sometime soon, anyway, and there isn't much else we can do but send him away either with or without information."  
"Really?" Stalin muttered in response. "I do believe a punishment is in order. Why would we make an exception, just because he's a nation?"  
" _Because_ he is a nation," was Churchill's calm answer. "We have all agreed not to harm the personifications of any nation, be it Germany, Japan, or any other." Ignoring Stalin's opinion, the man turned his attention to President Truman. "What do you think?"  
The American was quiet for a little while, then sighed. "Oh, why not… He and Germany will have to prepare for it, anyway, so we might as well."  
Russia smiled again now, thanking the two humans. Stalin, however, was looking at his nation with a death glare for just a moment, a look that Russia thankfully missed but Prussia picked up on, and the albino felt sick just then; memories flashed through his mind like a whirlwind when he saw the disdain this man had for his own nation, even if just for an instant. Hitler had sometimes looked at him in a similar way, whenever he said something the man hadn't been pleased about.  
"Hey, dude?" America's voice suddenly came, shaking him out of those dark thoughts. The younger nation was staring at him with a slightly tilted head and furrowed brows. "Are you all right? You look a little pale. Or, uh, I mean… more so than… You know what I mean."  
"He's probably sick, America," Russia said calmly, still with that smile on his face. That smile suddenly became creepy in combination with those words, as if he _liked_ the idea of Prussia being ill. "We completely crushed his army and destroyed his cities and his economy is terrible; it's only a matter of time before both he and Germany fall ill, you know that."  
Prussia just stared at him with a blank expression. "I'll have you know, Russia, I'm feeling perfectly fine." Forcing himself to calm down and appear polite and humble again, the albino looked at the humans, although mainly Truman and Churchill. With a polite nod, he said: "I'd very much appreciate it if you would tell me what you're planning for me and my little brother, but I fully realise that you have no obligation to share any information with me. I apologise for my behaviour, and I would honestly be content if you would just send me away without any repercussions; that would… truly… be more than I've received the past years."  
The Prussian bit the inside of his lip carefully as some of the humans exchanged a surprised glance at the nation's last sentence. Had he said too much? Or was it just what they had needed to hear? He didn't know, and he hoped he'd made the right decision; not giving away too much information, but still dropping a hint about the treatment he and, to some extent, Germany had received from their late leader.  
It was Churchill again who spoke first. "There will be consequences, Prussia, you must realise this," the man told him calmly. "We will need to increase surveillance on both you and Germany, and from here on forward, I believe it's best if, during meetings, there will not only be guards outside your room, but we'll also lock the door." He then proceeded to ask if the others were in agreement to this, and they all seemed to agree completely.  
Prussia nodded, saying quietly that he fully understood the decision and that he wouldn't trouble them again.  
"Now before you go," Churchill then went on, "there is one matter that you might need to hear about: we have decided to hold trials for all Nazi war criminals. You and your brother will be among those."  
Those words robbed Prussia of his breath for a moment, and just then, he couldn't keep up his overly-polite, meek behaviour anymore. "War… criminals…?" he echoed breathlessly. "I… Sir, with all due respect, Ludwig and I have done nothing that can be called a _war crime._ "  
"Really? That's not what we heard," Stalin then said, his gaze cold as he stared at Prussia. "Going by documents we've found, we have plenty of reason to believe that you had a hand in mister Heydrich's death. Do you deny that?"  
Feeling his heart pound in his throat, Prussia shook his head. "N-no, I… I don't know if _I_ really was the one to kill him, but I… It's true that I tried."  
"And did Germany not assault Luxembourg?"  
By now, Prussia couldn't answer anymore. He just turned his gaze to the floor, panic welling up inside him. He'd tried to kill Heydrich, he'd tried to kill Hitler, and he would be _punished_ for it? _Again?_ But he calmed himself quickly, telling himself that no such thing had been decided yet. He would only be put to trial over it. Maybe he could convince them, like he had done just now, to pick his side. Surely they would, once they learnt of his intention to put an end to the war? Wasn't that what they had all tried to do, after all? In a way, they had all been on the same side.  
 _But Germany attacking Luxembourg is not the same sort of situation at all…_  
That too, though, they would be able to solve. They had just said that it was their intention to leave all nation personifications unharmed; what punishment could they possibly give that would be as bad as what Hitler would have and really _had_ done? They would be fine.  
"Now if you would please show our _guest_ out again," Stalin then said to the two soldiers who had brought Prussia to them. "We have a meeting to continue."  
The two nodded and were about to take Prussia away with them again, but not before the nation thanked the humans gathered there for sharing information with him after all; he really hadn't expected them to, and he was very grateful to them.  
"That's okay," Truman just said, a little dismissively. Prussia then turned around, ready to leave, but the American spoke again before he was out of the room. "Oh, and, Prussia?"  
The nation looked over his shoulder, curious and silent.  
To his surprise, there was a tiny, amused smile on Truman's face. "Please do not try to spy on us anymore from now on. A second time, we wouldn't be so forgiving."  
Prussia couldn't help himself just then, glad that these humans (with some help from America and Russia) actually found the situation _amusing_. He smiled back. "Of course not, sir. I am many things, and while rash and thoughtless are definitely among them, _suicidal_ certainly is not. Thank you again, and good luck with the rest of the conference, gentlemen." The he left, escorted by the British and Russian soldiers.

Once outside, Prussia finally relaxed again after having been tense for a couple minutes straight. What had just happened? He didn't quite get it. He did realise that he had been in some serious trouble at first, but somehow, America's bad sense of humour had saved him. The Prussian didn't know whether or not America had done all of it intentionally, but at least once he realised what influence he had on the humans, it certainly had _become_ intentional.  
Either way, they had saved his ass in one of his stupid moments. If only people did that more often for him -he wouldn't ever be in trouble again!

* * *

Germany only briefly glanced up from the book he had been reading -one of Prussia's journals, with his brother's consent- when Prussia was rather forcefully shoved back into their room. "You kept it up longer than I thought," the young nation said flatly with a soft sigh. "So, did they hurt you?"  
"Only my pride." Prussia sighed as he flopped down on the couch beside his little brother, closing his eyes and leaning back comfortably. "They're awesome for letting me go without any _real_ consequences, but to get there I had to act so overly polite and obedient and _meek_ ," the albino went on with a grunt. "It was so _not me_ , it was actually uncomfortable!"  
Germany huffed amusedly, grinning at this. "Well, you did it yourself, brother," he reminded the older nation. "Be glad they let you off the hook so easily. They really are good people." There was a flash of emotion in his eyes, and though Prussia couldn't read all of it so quickly, he noticed that jealousy was among those emotions when Germany added in a mutter: "Much better people than what we were stuck with."  
Prussia looked at him for a moment, silent, then patted him on the shoulder. "We're not stuck with him and his lackeys anymore, Ludwig," he said, hoping to be somewhat comforting. "And at least the people who control our fate now are righteous -at least in comparison to what we've had to deal with. Being under their influence will be like a breath of fresh air after being ruled by Nazis for so long. They're even willing to give us fair trials!"  
When Prussia said this, Germany looked at him wide-eyed and confused. "Trials?" he echoed, not understanding at all. "What do you mean, _trials_?"  
Prussia nibbled his lip for a couple seconds, wondering how to phrase it. Direct and honest was probably the best way. "They told me that they're going to hold trials for war criminals," he explained carefully. "We're counted among those. But, Ludwig, we'll be just fine; I won't say we didn't do anything wrong, but compared to whoever else they've got who will be put to trial, we're as good as innocent. We won't be punished, or at least not badly so, I'm sure of it."  
Germany looked unsure still, staying silent for a little while, only blinking once. Then he sighed. "I suppose you're right," he said softly, half to himself it seemed. "We've got the worst behind us. Let's just focus on getting our lives back on track now, and those trials won't be an obstacle for us if we go about it right." After that, there was a silence for a minute or two, until Germany looked at his elder brother again, curious. "Did you find out anything else?"  
Prussia shook his head with a sigh. "Except that Russia and America seem to be on our side," he mumbled, still very relieved but also a little confused about it. "America actually put in effort to convince those humans to go easy on me. Russia seemed friendly… in his own way, of course." He sighed again, deeply this time, and slid face-down onto his little brother's lap. "I don't want to be trialled for trying to _help_ ," he complained, his voice muffled. "Trying to kill Heydrich, trying to kill Hitler… Those are all good things! From their perspective, anyway. _Why_ treat me as a war criminal over it?" He was okay with it, in a sense, knowing that it wouldn't be much trouble to him. Other people who had attempted to assassinate Nazi leaders were considered war _heroes,_ not criminals -he too would be all right. It was just that the prospect of going to court over it made him nervous. What if he said the wrong things in court? What if he accidentally convinced them that he _was_ a criminal? And in actual fact, he was -he had attempted to kill Poland twice in his life, he had murdered Bavaria and -albeit accidentally- killed Saxony. He'd nearly crippled Austria and many more things.  
Actually this war had been one of the few in which he had done nothing wrong, taking Poland prisoner and drugging him not taken into account.  
Germany was quiet as Prussia spoke, but when his elder brother fell silent, he said with regret dripping from every word: "I _am_ guilty of more than one crime… Assaulting Luxembourg, nearly choking Italy Romano to death…" He trailed off, and Prussia was surprised to hear the second thing his little brother named.  
Suddenly the albino felt Germany's hand on the back of his head, very lightly running his fingers through the Prussian's white hair. "You're right, brother," he mumbled sadly. "You're innocent, you don't deserve to be trialled. _I do_."  
Prussia sat up when Germany said this, looking at the young nation in silent worry. Germany's pale blue eyes were fixed on the table, but also very unfocused, sparking with worry. _Oh, Ludwig…_ Prussia shook his head. "You don't deserve it any more than I do," he tried to assure his precious brother. "Ludwig, don't forget you're still young; you can't blame children for their mistakes in the same way you can adults. They know that."  
Germany turned to stare at him in a flash, his gaze cold and grim. "You really wouldn't punish a child for attacking someone?" he demanded disbelievingly.  
Prussia, though, immediately shook his head. "Of course not, not in the same way! Ludwig, while I was working in Prague, some children actually did attack me -they threw stones at me and insulted me. Know what I did? I offered to help when one of them got hurt." He forced a little smile. "Maybe you've made mistakes, but surely they won't judge you in the same way they would others."  
Germany only blinked calmly, unconvinced. "And if those stones had been thrown at you by teenagers?" he prompted almost angrily. "Or young adults?" When Prussia didn't answer, very uncomfortable now, Germany huffed. "Have you actually looked at me lately? _I'm not a child anymore!_ Even if I am age-wise in comparison to other nations, I don't look like one anymore. I haven't done for years. Also, do you think I'm _childlike?_ "  
"Not at all," Prussia answered, averting his gaze now that he fully understood why Germany was so worried. Another thing he hadn't thought about: his little brother was nearly an adult. Young, but old enough to bear responsibility for his actions.  
Germany didn't say any more, and Prussia also couldn't find any more words to speak now. The silence that fell between the two brothers was a heavy one, the most uncomfortable there had been since they had been forced to move in to the Cecilienhof.  
Minutes had gone by before Prussia dared to speak again, very softly and a little nervous about his brother's reaction. "You'll be fine, Ludwig," he tried once more to reassure the young nation. "We'll find a way to make it work out well."  
"…I hope you're right."

Prussia, though, was already convinced of it once more. They had been given time to prepare for this, and they could work on what they would both say in their defence. And thinking about it, he was almost certain that he had been given this information for exactly that purpose.

These humans really weren't anything like Hitler had been.  
 _They're so much better._

* * *

 **Now I understand that Churchill, Truman and Stalin had their faults, but at least they (minus Stalin) were not nearly as bad as Hitler, so I really do believe Prussia and Germany would much rather be their sort-of prisoners than live another second under Hitler's rule. Much more relaxing.**

 **What happens when Prussia is relaxed after years of being on high guard?  
Stupidity happens.** **Less than a year prior, the answer to the question "what could possibly go wrong?" would have been "a whole freakin' lot, you don't even want to know." Now, however, it's "meh... you could be told off, receive some minor punishment... You'll be _fine~!_ "** **And that's when the brain switches off for just long enough to do stupid things...**

 **Germany is more thoughtfull and careful, of course. Much more.**

 **Also, I can't imagine Russia and America being extremely anti-Germany &Prussia. To a certain extent, yes, but they've both lived long enough to know, much better than any human, that you can't blame nations for everything that happens. (That, and we all know Russia's obsession with friends.)**

 **Anyways, thank you for reading again, and I hope you enjoyed it!**


	34. Chapter 34

**Sorry that I couldn't keep up the happiness in this story for long... But I hope this chapter is at least balanced out!  
Well, I've got one more exam left next week and then I'm done, so the next chapter shouldn't take me as long anymore.**

 **Now I've got a question for everyone who's following this story: do you still receive notifications when I update? I got an error message the moment I updated for the past two or three chapters. For some reason the author would receive notifications when they update their own stories, but since the error messages started, that kind of stopped abruptly, which is weird.  
So I'm wondering if you guys still receive notifications or not. If not, maybe that's worth mentioning to the admins, as it might be a bug on the website...**

 **So yeah, just curious about it.  
{Edit: and just as I mention it, it went back to normal for me at least. Weird stuff.}  
**

 **Anyways, thanks for the reviews once again and I hope you'll enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

It felt like a long time for the Potsdam Conference to come to an end, although it was already in the early days of August that Germany and Prussia were called in to a small office in the Cecilienhof, where America, Russia and three humans representing each nation would explain to them what had been decided.  
Many of the decisions were things the two nations could fully agree with; they would lose the territories they had been occupying for the duration of the war and in the years before then, for example. Instead, Germany would be occupied, divided into zones overseen by the Allied Forces. Their people would be expelled from the lands that weren't theirs, to make the loss of their occupied territories more definitive. Demilitarisation, denazification, war trials: those were all things that they could agree with.  
Their loss of territory in the East, however, was one step too far.

Germany could not take his eyes off his brother as they were shown a map with the new borders drawn on it, something called the Oder-Neisse line. Prussia's red eyes were wide with shock and glassy with tears as he saw what would have to be ceded to Poland and the Soviet Union.  
Silesia, the majority of Pomerania. Both East and West Prussia.  
After a long, suffocating silence, Prussia lifted his gaze to stare at the five people in front of him. For just a moment, his lips moved without a sound, but then he finally managed to speak. "You can't…" was all he choked out at first, his voice a soft, hoarse whisper. "Please… You can't…" He then looked down at the map again, eyes focused mainly on the area of East and West Prussia. "That land… has always been mine… F-from the day I was born, it's been my land…"  
Germany wanted to do something, to say something that could ease his brother's mind or just anything that could even be remotely comforting. His heart ached for Prussia when the older nation clenched his jaws and tried to blink away a few tears.  
The Prussian clenched his hands into fists, shaking lightly as he once again looked up at the three humans and America and Russia. "Isn't it bad enough that there's hardly anything left of Königsberg? T-that land is my _home_! I've… I've lived there for centuries…" His voice cracked on the words, but he was still struggling to keep his emotions under control even then. "I-I get that you would take back the land we've occupied, all right, _I get it!_ But _Prussia_ has been mine all my life, has been _me_ all my life, we never occupied it! It's where I was born and raised, where I became a Duchy and later a Kingdom, so… So please…" Prussia's voice was quivering with emotion, his eyes flooding with tears once more as he begged: " _Please don't take my home from me…_ "  
Germany couldn't remember the last time he had heard such grief, such misery in his brother's voice. When he'd talked about their lost family, maybe, or perhaps in his most miserable moment when he'd been in hospital after his brain haemorrhage, but even about those situations he just couldn't be sure. Prussia was so heartbroken over this, and understandably so.  
One of the three humans, an Englishman, then said that the decision had been made and that nothing would change anymore at this point. "Also, to be completely truthful," the man then said calmly, "your people _did_ once occupy the land, unless you're meaning to tell me that the original Prussians are still around?"  
America gave the man an almost exasperated look over this. "Hey, dude, I hardly think that's fair," he tried to reason with the human. "I mean, nearly my entire population consists of European settlers, and we don't get kicked out over it, do we?"  
"All true," Russia agreed with a tiny smile on his face. "Basically what you're saying is that, according to these rules, America has no right to live at all!" For just a few seconds, the tall nation chuckled softly, then added in almost a whisper: "An idea I can get behind, to be honest…"  
"What was that?!" America then snapped, facing the other nation with a furious blue glare. "You'd better take that back, you goddamn communist!"  
Russia gritted his teeth now, his smile fading in a heartbeat, returning America's glare tenfold. Germany watched the two nations nervously, but nothing happened in the end other than a staring contest; the three humans stepped in quickly to stop the nations, telling them that they had just ended a war, there was no need to start a new one.  
"Maybe for you European guys it's over," America only huffed, turning away from Russia again. "My people are still fighting Japan."  
With a sigh, Germany silently directed his attention back at Prussia, who was completely still, watching the map on the desk with glassy red eyes. He didn't even seem to notice much of the near-fight that had just broken out between America and Russia. The younger nation just carefully grabbed his brother's hand, and even to that, Prussia hardly responded. Seeing this, Germany asked softly: "May we please leave? My brother needs some time alone after this…"  
It was America who answered, without paying attention to his companions' opinions. "Sure, that's fine," he said a little dismissively, looking at the wall. "Take some time; we'll come in later to give you the dates for your trials."  
Germany just nodded and said a quick thanks, then gently pulled his brother along as he left.

* * *

The young nation took his brother to their shared bedroom; there was a bed on either side of the room and they'd put a desk in between, on which they would stack books and papers as some sort of wall when they wanted 'privacy'. There he just pulled the trembling Free State towards his bed and carefully sat him down there.  
Germany's heart skipped a beat in surprise when Prussia burst into tears the very moment his younger brother sat down beside him. He wasn't quite crying, he was too quiet for that, but he was clearly not holding back his emotions anymore, either.  
"It's not fair…" Prussia choked out, his voice high-pitched and quiet, barely audible. "It's… it's my home… First they take my capital, then my home…" The albino bit back a sob, hiding his face in his hand then. He gritted his teeth. "I know that what we… what our people did… It was horrible," he went on quietly. "Of course there would be punishment, of course that would be a steep one… but… but…" Slowly, Prussia trailed off.  
Germany put one arm around him comfortingly and held him close without saying anything for a moment. When the silence became unbearable, though, he spoke carefully. "It's okay, Gilbert… You don't have to hold back. Just talk." He didn't know what to say himself, but he guessed it was best for Prussia now if he just got everything off his chest. Life had been good for a few months, but all that time, Germany had still been able to tell that Prussia had been struggling all that time.  
Prussia took a deep breath, held that for a few seconds, then breathed out slowly. He wasn't trembling anymore, and when he lifted his had from his hand, although his eyes were bloodshot and there were tearstains still on his face, his expression was one of pure anger. "There are limits," he muttered with only the slightest shiver of sadness still in his voice. "There are _limits_ to what they can do to us, and this… It's too far. I-…" The nation stopped himself quickly, pausing for just a heartbeat before correcting himself: " _We_ have been through enough. _We_ don't deserve this. _We_ have suffered enough, lost enough, without them taking this from us, too."  
Germany listened silently, but with every forced 'we' that his brother spoke he felt a twinge of annoyance. "I told you not to hold back," he reminded Prussia then. "Go on. Say what you were going to say." Prussia stared at him when he said this, wide-eyed, as if he didn't understand. Germany knew that he did, though. The young nation narrowed his eyes at this. " _Do it._ "  
For a moment, Prussia didn't respond, still looking like he didn't get it, but then emotions flashed in his eyes. Pain. Despair. _Rage._ When Prussia's expression darkened within heartbeats, Germany almost regretted his words, but he pushed that away; Prussia _needed_ to let it out sometime.  
The Free State stood up abruptly, entire body tense, a murderous expression on his face. "Goddammit, Ludwig, _I_ have suffered enough!" he exclaimed suddenly, furious. "I fully get that you suffered, that our people suffered, that other nations and other peoples _suffered_ because of that godforsaken war and, naturally, we're the nations and _we_ receive the punishment regardless of our role in the war, because that's just what being a nation is like! _I GET IT!_ But do _they_ know that we've suffered, that _I've suffered_ , let alone how much? Let's make a fucking list, shall we?" Prussia was pacing around the room as he spoke, stomping loudly, probably without even noticing it himself. "I've been distrusted and disliked my entire life. I've lost almost everyone I ever cared about. Nearly my entire family was _slaughtered_ by my own government. I would go into the wars I've been through, but I didn't hate every single one of them. The scars I've got are self-explanatory, though, no need to go into detail on how much all of that hurt throughout the years. Now let's see… Oh, right: when I established an Empire, I thought it would secure my place at the top and unite my family, but instead it _killed_ my family and _ruined_ my health for the remainder of my life."  
Germany flinched when his brother said this. The realisation that it was true was like a dagger to his heart. _It…_ Prussia had called him 'it' when he'd been born, out of sheer confusion of course, but that only served to make these words hurt even more. _So… so_ _ **I'm**_ _the reason they're dead, the reason you're declining so quickly…_ He'd known that for a long time, but at the same time he hadn't really.  
But he still refused to stop his brother's rant. He couldn't even have done it if he tried now, anyway. Prussia was yelling so loudly by now, the entire Cecilienhof might have heard him.  
"The Great War happened, which was terrible for everyone. Russia nearly killed me in that one, goddammit. We lost, we were condemned to decades of economic struggles. My health started failing me more than ever before. My eyesight went bad, which was terrifying as _hell_ at first. I _lost_ my government, had a goddamn _stroke_ , almost _died_ , then got a leader who didn't even _like me_ one bit! He forced us into this hellhole of a war, forced me to the limits of what my body can handle after that _lovely_ decades-long decline and that _wonderful_ stroke, forced me to sit by and watch as he slowly broke my only remaining brother and my closest cousin with all the shit he did. I tried to stop it, I tried to stop _him_ , and my reward was four months of imprisonment in Auschwitz, where I was humiliated and abused every single day for a month. The other three months, I received the worst torture I've ever been through, mentally, physically, _it was horrible._ That guy, that sick piece of shit, he actually made me cry. You know, _me_ , Mr Highest-Pain-Threshold-In-The-World, _crying in pain_. Day in and day out for _three months._ Three months, Ludwig! That's a fucking _quarter of a year!_ " The albino let out a shrill laugh just then, chilling Germany to the bone with it, but the young nation still just bit his tongue and kept quiet, telling himself over and over that Prussia needed this, that it was okay, it was a good thing that he was saying all this now.  
Prussia was smiling as he spoke by now, but it was quite possibly the most twisted smile Germany had ever seen; the Free State looked like he was going to kill someone and laugh and dance as he did so, while at the same time he looked like he was on the verge of tears in utter despair. "I was freed from that shithole and freed from the torture, only to receive the daily torture of missing my little brother and worrying about him for another year and a bit, all the while trying hard to recover from what I'd been through in Auschwitz. Did you know I couldn't even hold a butter knife out of fear for two months? Yeah. That man fucked me up, Ludwig. He just took what was left of my mental stability and blew it to smithereens in those months, and Austria and I just had to try and piece it back together. We lost the war, which is fine with me, and _God_ , I could finally see my precious little brother again. Things are looking up, no?" A dry chuckle then came from Prussia's lips, although it might also have been quiet sobs. " _No_. My own capital was destroyed entirely, my brother's capital - _Brandenburg's capital!_ \- is no better off. Both cities have been my home for centuries, literally centuries. Apparently, being imprisoned and tortured makes me a war criminal and I will be trialled for it! Isn't that just wonderful? And now, to top it all off, they expect me to just be quiet and obedient while they take away the land that has been my home _all my life?_ _FUCK THEM!_ "  
Stunned silent, Germany could only watch as his brother's knees buckled and he crashed to the floor, hunched over, shoulders shaking as he cried. It was the first time that Germany had heard the older nation cry quite like this, without any restraint, just letting out all his emotion in one go. It tore at his heart, but at the same time filled him with a sense of relief. _This_ was what he had been aiming for, what he had hoped would happen. For another minute or so, he just let Prussia be, but then he decided it was time for him to do something. A little anxiously, Germany knelt down beside his brother, pulled him close, held him as he cried frantically.  
It could have been minutes, it could have been hours before either of them finally spoke again, it was impossible to tell. Prussia had begun to quiet down a little, although he still couldn't control his breathing and still whimpered every now and then. "You know what's the worst part, Ludwig?" the Prussian whispered then, sighing softly. "Even after all that, I still want to go on and I still believe that life really _can_ be beautiful. Isn't that stupid?" He laughed hollowly. "I'm supposed to be some sort of genius, but at the same time I'm a naïve _fool_ who still clings to the belief that, someday, _things will get better._ That's just… pathetic."  
Germany couldn't help but smile when his brother said this, a tiny smile, careful and somewhat sad, too, but a smile nonetheless. "Right and wrong, brother," he whispered back. "It's true that you're a naïve fool, but not for remaining hopeful: you're a fool for thinking that makes you pathetic. It makes you the strongest person I know."

Suddenly he got an idea, and the young nation smiled even wider. "Now here's my next 'task' for you, if you will," Germany began softly, still holding his brother in a warm embrace. "Make another list. Make a list of all the good things that happened in your life. I'll join you."  
At first, Prussia only twitched a bit in his little brother's grasp, but then he relaxed and got started. "I was raised by the Teutonic Knights," he began, a little hesitant and unsure. "It wasn't an easy life but I _loved it_. They taught me to read, to write, to wield a sword and use a bow…"  
Germany knew he'd made the right decision when the entire atmosphere seemed to lighten with every word Prussia spoke, and his chest filled with a comfortable warmth as he listened.  
"Best of all, though," Prussia went on, "the Teutonic Knights took me in when no one wanted me. They gave me a home in Acre and then they led me home to Prussia… Without them, I don't know what my life would have been like. Then I met Hungary and she became one of my first real friends… and always remained that. I met Holy Rome, the best big brother I could've wished for, and he introduced me to the others and… It may have taken nearly a century to get there, but finally, for the first time in my life, _I had a family_. Siblings and cousins, people who would stand by me when I needed them even if we didn't always see eye to eye." Prussia let out another soft sigh, but by now he sounded almost blissful and calm. "I travelled so much, Ludwig. I've been to all corners of Europe, I've been in the Levant, I've gone to Asia and America… I think my albinism will prevent me from going to Africa or Australia or anything on the southern hemisphere, but that's okay. I've seen the world, you know. The northern half of it, anyway. And the world… is beautiful. So diverse."  
"We'll have to travel when we get the chance," Germany suggested then, smiling wide. "Go on a vacation together. Just forget about everything that's happened and _go_ , even if just for a few weeks. We deserve that by now."  
Prussia chuckled. "By now? We deserved that 10 years ago!" He laughed some more, then fell quiet, and Germany just urged him on to continue his list. He did. "I swear to God, Ludwig, I met some of the most amazing people to have walked the Earth. I've had the most awesome family, I've been married to the most wonderful girl I've ever known, I've known the best, most unconditional friendship in existence… And now I've got the world's most fantastic little brother." The Prussian leant back then, staring Germany in the eyes. His red eyes were still bloodshot from crying so much, but all the sadness was gone from them, only joy, love and warmth still shining in his irises. "I've been so unlucky in so many ways," the older nation went on in a whisper. "Yet at the same time, I feel like the luckiest man alive. _That's_ why I still want to go on, why I still want to believe that life is worth living, that not everything is dark and painful… because it's not."  
Germany gave a short nod, still smiling, too relieved to speak just then. But Prussia didn't quite accept his silence, and after a little while he reminded the younger nation that he still had a list to make, too. With a soft chuckle, Germany started talking. "Well, for starters, I was lucky enough to be born into the best family in the world," he said, as vague memories flashed him by. A young woman laughing as she held him and played with him. A teenager who always held a large stick. No, not a stick… a cane. He used it to walk. A man with a scary face, a scar over one eye, but with a very gentle voice. People would always bicker around him, and he never liked it, but somehow they always ended up laughing together, and he would laugh along, which would make them laugh even more.  
The few memories he had of his family were so precious. "I might not have known that amazing family for long," he went on more softly, "but it was long enough for me to have _some_ memories of them, and that's all I ask for. Even so, even if that is truly all I'm asking for, I was given much more than that. I was given the best brother I could ever wish for. Yes, life is hard and it _sucks_ , but I've been blessed with a brother who has taught me everything I need to know to get through it all." He fell silent, thinking, then burst out laughing for a few seconds. "I would say I can't complain," he laughed, "but to be honest, you don't even want to get me started! But then again, at the end of the day…" He paused and sighed, giving a tiny nod. Yes, he really was. "I'm content. Life's hard, but you know what? I like a good challenge."  
Prussia only stared at his little brother for a while, his red eyes shining with joy and pride and love. Then he grinned and ruffled up Germany's hair. "That's my awesome little bro! I swear to God, Ludwig, I pray your life won't be like mine, but at least I know that, if it will be…" He paused for a moment, smiling warmly. "You'll be just fine! Ludwig, you're really such a strong person."  
The Free State then put his arms around the younger nation, finishing in a whisper: "If you believe that I'm strong, little brother of mine, then you also should never underestimate yourself."  
Germany nodded once again, returning the warm embrace.  
"Just stop calling yourself pathetic, Prussia. Remember: _you're awesome._ "

* * *

Prussia and Germany's trials were scheduled to start in December, along with Austria's; after finding out that the previously annexed nation had been working in concentration camps for the duration of the war, the Allies decided that he, too, should be trialled for it.  
By November, Austria came to the Cecilienhof to join Prussia and Germany there, and although it would only be for a short visit of no more than a week, Hungary was also allowed to come that month. Russia was still residing there also, separate from the two German brothers, and since it had been decided that there should be at least two nations there to keep an eye on them, America had returned after a few months of absence.  
The young nation was still clearly uneasy, even months after his decisive victory over Japan and the definitive end of the World War; America's nuclear bombs had not only killed millions of people, but they had also nearly killed Japan himself, and it seemed he could not forgive himself for it.  
Germany had once carefully tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault, just like it wasn't Germany's and Prussia's fault that Hitler had gone berserk and caused such death and destruction. America hadn't responded too well to that, and after Germany had just quickly shaken off the massive rant he'd received for trying to be comforting like that, the young nation had resigned to simply taking comfort in the knowledge that he wasn't the only one who struggled with guilt for things he hadn't done.

All worries about the aftermath of the war and the upcoming trials faded to the background on the day that Austria and Hungary arrived together. It had been at the start of the summer that they'd last seen Austria, and for both Prussia and Germany it had been about two years since they had last seen Hungary. It was good to see both of them again.  
Very good, if a little uncomfortable because of Russia and America being there and 'keeping an eye on them'.  
Hungary seemed to not mind their presence or even not being aware of them at all when she tackled Germany and Prussia both and held them in crushing hugs. Although, 'crushing'… She was much shorter than both of them, so her strangle-hugs weren't as effective as they would have been on someone smaller than them.  
While she was busy holding the two nations, Austria took the short opportunity to very quickly greet his cousins in much more civil manner. Neither of the two got the chance to respond, though, when Hungary let go of them and started talking, words tumbling over her lips so quickly that she was hard to follow. "You both look so well!" she exclaimed, overjoyed, her green eyes shining and glassy both at the same time. "Oh, Ludwig, you look like you've actually _slept well_ lately; I'm so happy for you!" Then she turned to Prussia, and after looking him up and down with an astonished green gaze, she nearly squealed. "And Gil, _Gil!_ You've improved so much! I could go on all day if I were to list everything that looks better about you, but this just needs to be said: God, Gil, _you've been eating!_ You look great, really!"  
Prussia smiled sheepishly, a little flustered at the sudden -and hyper- attention he got from her. "Well, I don't know how I would've made it through the past two years if I hadn't eaten, so…" He chuckled softly. "Thanks, Lizzie. You look well, too."  
Germany blinked, a little confused. "Actually, food has been scarce all year," he reminded Hungary carefully. _That, and brother's definitely on the thin side…_ He and Prussia both, although not anywhere near dangerously malnourished, showed clear signs of the famine affecting them as well.  
Hungary looked at him with a flash of pity and a guilty look in her eyes, her smile having faded just a little bit then. "Oh, I know, Ludwig," she said, more quietly now. "But trust me, compared to when I last saw Prussia, he's simply _fat_ right now, even if he is slightly underweight still."  
Although he was very surprised by the woman's words, Germany still noticed Prussia cast a quick glance toward Russia and America on the other side of the room, a little distressed when Hungary said this about him. Germany was focused on Hungary though, and he must have stammered something then, because she answered.  
"It was simply _scary_ how thin he was," she said, before turning back to look at Prussia again. "I really am glad that you've gained some weight, Gil. I know I kept my mouth shut about it, but I really didn't like looking at you back then."  
"That's enough, Lizzie," Prussia then stopped her gently, although the look he gave her was very clear: _shut up about it right now._ "I'd rather not talk about any of that. I hope you understand."  
Hungary was quiet for a moment, also glancing over to Russia and America, and suddenly it seemed to dawn on her. "Oh. Of course, Gil, I'm sorry." She looked at him almost guiltily, but then she got onto her toes to look more closely at his face. "Oh, your eyes are still…." She didn't finish the sentence.  
A little annoyed still, Prussia gave a curt nod. "I don't think that's ever going to change anymore now." He sighed. "It looks weird, doesn't it…?"  
Hungary only smiled when he said this, shaking her head. "Actually, Gil, I hate how it was done to you, but don't worry about it looking bad. To be very honest… I kind of like it." Suddenly looking guilty again, she averted her gaze uncomfortably. "Is that bad…?"  
Prussia's only answer to that question was a kiss.  
When the two nations parted again, America called from the other end of the room. "Hey now! Hungary, I do hope you won't be influenced by your emotions in court, or you'll have to withdraw."  
The woman spun around with wide, offended look in her eyes. Before she could make the retort that must have been on the tip of her tongue, however, Germany stammered confusedly: "C-court…?"  
Hungary instantly ignored America again and looked at the young nation with a much warmer expression again. "The moment I heard that the three of you would be trialled," she explained calmly, "I made work of it. Since I've seen and heard much of what was going on behind the scenes, I'm a witness in this case." Glaring briefly at America, she snapped at the other nation: "And _of course_ my emotions will play a part in it, goddammit, but I will make sure not to let myself be led by them. To a certain extent, emotions are just as important in the courtroom as anything else! Don't tell me what to do, pipsqueak, because I know damn well what my task is." Hungary's mood changed again in a flash when she looked back at Germany, smiling at him. "Okay? Don't worry, sweetie, everything will be just fine."  
Before Germany even realised just what it was she had said, Russia was chuckling softly and smiling at him and Hungary. "How sweet!"  
In an instant, Germany felt his face grow hot, and he felt frozen where he stood. America, meanwhile, stared at him in confusion, stammering incomprehensible sounds before turning to Russia. "What's this all about?" he asked, making Germany realise that he didn't speak German and hadn't been able to follow anything that had been said so far aside from the one thing Hungary had just said to him, which had been in English. "You're laughing, Germany's _blushing_ -something weird must have just happened, so what was it?"  
"Nothing weird at all," was Russia's calm answer, a smile still plastered onto his face. "Miss Hungary just happens to have a cute nickname for Germany, and I commented on it. I don't get why he would be so flustered over it; she only called him 'sweetie', after all. Isn't that adorable?" He looked so genuine when he said all that, it was actually kind of freaky.  
Germany only got more flustered, though, when America started laughing. He turned his gaze to the floor, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. "Don't call me that anymore, Hungary," he asked softly, wishing he could just turn invisible as he listened to America's laughter and Russia's chuckles. " _Please._ It was fine when I was a kid, but now…"  
Hungary apologised, although she too was chuckling softly by now, which didn't really help Germany feel any better. Both Austria and Prussia tried to say a word of comfort to the young nation, but the moment they opened their mouths, even they began to laugh ever so slightly. _Please just let me disappear for the day… Week. Month.  
…Century…_  
Eventually everyone quieted down again, and America stepped forward, looking at the four nations. He was teary-eyed with laughter. "All right, enough of that," he choked out, still working to catch his breath again. "Now, how about you show your guests to their rooms, _Sweetie_?"  
Germany glared at the older nation for this. "Would it hurt my chances in court if I punched you now?"  
"I don't think so! Still, I wouldn't try it if I were you."

* * *

That evening, Prussia went to bed early, not feeling well, which left Germany with Hungary and Austria. They first tried to keep their conversation light hearted, but soon the upcoming war trials became the topic once more.  
"I honestly don't know how things will go for us," Austria sighed at one point, his eyes narrowed in worry. "I mean, it's true that we were forced to do most of what we've done, but is that really an excuse? I mean, Prussia drugged Poland and it's because of him that Poland was locked up in Auschwitz for years. You assaulted Luxembourg, and I…" He trailed off, nibbling on his bottom lip for a second before looking away.  
Hungary immediately tried to be reassuring to the younger nation. "But it's as you said, Roderich," she reminded him softly. "You were forced to do it."  
"That I was _forced_ to murder hundreds of people doesn't change the fact that I murdered hundreds of people!" Austria retorted, sounding both agitated and desperate at the same time. Guilt and shame and disgust were evident on every inch of his expression, and Germany felt a rush of pity for his cousin. More than Germany himself, much more so than Prussia, Austria was quite the pacifist unless provoked, and even then he didn't like to resort to violence. He hadn't worked in the concentration camps for nearly three years, but Germany could only imagine the years Austria spent on that job still haunting him.  
Thinking about Luxembourg, Germany still felt sick, and he wondered if he could ever face his cousin again.  
Meanwhile, Hungary sighed softly. "Well, I'm sure the punishments you'll get -if you get any in the first place- won't be too steep," she said a little tentatively. "In regard to previous wars and the crimes committed by nations in those, it wouldn't be fair. I mean, Prussia didn't receive a punishment for breaking your legs and nearly crippling you," she said to Austria.  
Austria huffed. "Not formally," he muttered in response, "but remember the guy who stabbed him in the back and punctured his lung? I believe we all agreed back then that that was punishment enough."  
"Well…" Hungary went on defiantly, refusing to give up. "He wasn't even punished for murdering Bavaria or for killing Saxony!"  
"We didn't find out about Bavaria until a century later," Austria replied flatly. "Saxony was an accident, that was clear as day. He was absolutely _distraught_ over what happened to Saxony -that, too, was enough punishment in itself."  
Hungary narrowed her eyes now, a little peeved. "I'm just trying to help, Roderich!" she told the younger nation indignantly. "What's wrong? You're not usually such an unbearable _pessimist_."  
Germany flinched at her words. He agreed to some extent, but Hungary was quite likely far too blunt. Silently the young nation looked at Austria, who was staring at the wall in complete silence. There was something in his dark blue, purplish eyes that Germany couldn't quite place, although he could tell that the nation was lost in thoughts and he wasn't sure whether Austria had even heard Hungary just earlier. If he hadn't, that might actually be best.  
Suddenly Austria turned to Germany, staring his younger cousin straight in the eyes with an intense gaze. "Ludwig," he began almost sadly, "has Prussia told you anything about… about how he's been doing lately?"  
His question left Germany completely confused, and he stammered his response. "Uh, well… Just that he's been feeling sick off and on since losing most of his land. That's not too surprising though… Is it?"  
Austria shook his head, although there was a flash in his eyes that Germany still couldn't place. "No, that was to be expected, don't worry," he said with a soft sigh. Then he slowly shook his head and was quiet for another few seconds before he looked back up at Germany. "But that's not what I meant. He'll probably hate me for telling you this, but that will just mean going back to the good old days, and that's worth it. You deserve to know." The Austrian then got up from where he sat and moved over to Germany, sitting down beside the younger nation. Just this unnerved Germany, but he listened quietly to what Austria had to say.  
"You are aware that Prussia's health has been declining all century, right?" was the first thing Austria then asked, and Germany immediately nodded; of course he knew that. Everyone knew, surely? It was hard to miss. "Now you may have figured this out yourself," Austria went on quietly, his voice hoarse as he spoke. "Still, it may come as a shock… I don't know." He trailed off, taking a deep breath. Austria looked Germany straight in the eyes, his dark blue irises shimmering with emotion as he choked out softly: "He's not going to get better anymore, Ludwig. Not ever. He told me some time ago that…" The nation took another deep breath, and Germany started piecing together the rest of what he had to tell just by seeing how difficult he found it to speak. Even so, he hadn't quite finished that little puzzle inside his mind by the time Austria dropped it on him like a bomb.  
"Ludwig, Prussia is dying."  
Germany couldn't breathe anymore when he heard this. It wasn't surprising, yet at the same time it was a shock to hear this fact. He'd known, but he'd been denying it all this time. He had simply refused to acknowledge that his brother was slowly dying, even though, all this time, he'd known that his time left with Prussia by his side was limited.  
Unable to speak, Germany looked at Hungary, who sat with her eyes closed. Her expression was one of calm acceptance mingled with deep sadness and grief. She'd known too. That was the only thing Germany could think of at that moment. She'd known too.  
He looked back at Austria when his cousin started saying more. "I figured as much a few decades ago, but it was… To hear Prussia say it himself was… difficult." Austria's gaze was comforting as he spoke, and Germany focused on that as he listened. "He denied Holy Rome's declining condition and impending death for well over a century or longer, after all. He was quick to accept his own fate in comparison. But that's a good thing."  
Nothing that Austria said was what Germany really wanted to hear, so when he got the chance, he choked out his biggest question: "How long do you think he's got left…?"  
Austria looked almost shocked at that question, and also a little guilty. "Oh, don't worry about that, Ludwig," he said hastily, almost as if he was trying to correct a mistake. "I've seen the same thing in Germania and Holy Rome, I know what it's like, and Prussia isn't anywhere near death yet." He forced a little smile then, but it wasn't all fake. "When Holy Rome was at this point," he assured his cousin, "he still had a good century. Two, if I'm not mistaken. It's true that Prussia's been going downhill more quickly than Holy Rome did, but he's also stronger than anyone I've ever known."  
Hungary nodded and sat down on Germany's other side, grabbing his hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. "He'll have decades at the very least," she told him with a warm smile. "But then, it's Prussia we're talking about; it wouldn't surprise me if he were still around a millennium from now." She then leant forward and gave Germany a soft peck on the cheek. "All right, sweetie? It's something to keep in mind, but you shouldn't worry about it too much. Just make the most of the time you've got left with your brother, all right? You owe yourself that much, and him just as much."  
Germany nodded slowly, but then he sighed and gently pushed Hungary away as he got to his feet. "I think I'm heading to bed, too, if you don't mind…" he mumbled softly, then he left without waiting for an answer.  
Before he was out the door, Hungary mumbled that, of course, that was all right. Austria agreed softly, apologising for sharing this news with Germany, but it needed to be talked about sometime. Germany fully understood, but that didn't make him feel any less nauseous as he stumbled to his bed.

Prussia was snoring softly when Germany came in, and the young nation immediately tried to be extra quiet so as to not wake him. The teenager silently walked over to his brother's bedside and knelt down there, watching him for a minute or so. Prussia looked completely calm and at ease. His slightly thin face was the only thing about him that looked different from what he had been like in Germany's earliest memories. It was hard to imagine that he was in fact sick and dying.  
Seeing him look so much like himself, like he always had, healthy and strong, it hurt to know that he actually wasn't. Yet at the same time it was comforting to see his brother like this: it assured Germany that Austria and Hungary had been right, that Prussia was strong enough to live for a long time yet.  
The young nation smiled at that thought. He and Prussia would make many great memories together yet, he had no doubt about that. When the trials next month were over and done with and they could get their lives back on track for real, soon, they would be living life as usual again and they would both be happy once more.  
Prussia was strong enough to believe in that, to stay hopeful and trust that life would be beautiful once more. Germany would be strong like his brother and believe the same thing.  
If they did that, surely it would come true.  
They would _make it_ come true.  
Smiling warmly, Germany leant down and gave Prussia a very light, careful kiss on the cheek. "Sleep well, brother," he whispered to him before heading to his own bed opposite of Prussia's. Against the expectations he'd had when he entered his bedroom just two minutes ago, he fell asleep very quickly. Above all, he slept well, his dreams light and warm.

He still really did believe that everything would be all right.

* * *

 **I can't really imagine Prussia's reaction to the Oder-Neisse line any differently from this. It must be devastating to lose your home like that.**

 **Also, the 'sweetie' thing was a disaster waiting to happen from the first time I wrote Hungary calling Germany that. I've been going over many different situations in which she could embarrass him like that in front of other nations, and honestly, I was merciful (evil grin). One such idea was her greeting Germany all "Oh, Ludwig, it's been such a long time! How are you doing, sweetie?" at a UN gathering.  
Yeah, you know. With half the world or so around to hear.  
I was being kind on him here.**

 **I hope you liked this chapter, and thanks for reading!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Long chapter ahead!**

 **My exams are over, guys! _Squeee~!_ Some 3 weeks until we get the results, but I'm kinda 100% certain I passed... Still, it'd be nice to hear it officially.**

 **Anyways, thanks for all the lovely reviews and just for reading!  
Did someone say Germany and Prussia didn't deserve to be trialled?**

 **Well... Sorry!**

 **I hope the chapter won't disappoint, though ;) I hope you'll like reading it!**

* * *

No matter how many times Germany had pictured this day in his mind, not once had he imagined it would be quite like this.  
For starters, he had expected there to be more humans than nations present for the war trials, but instead there were only a few humans. One of them was the judge. The other humans were there to keep order. That did also mean that there were surprisingly few people in court: even with nearly all of Europe's nations and then some present, there were fewer people than he had expected there to be. The fact that the vast majority of them were nations came both as a comfort and a near-suffocating truth. These were the people who could understand what he was going to say in his defence. These were also the people whose judgement would matter most of all.  
The Benelux stood close together, Luxembourg and Belgium standing shoulder to shoulder with Netherlands right behind them, towering over his siblings like a guardian to them, ready to defend the two younger nations from anything and everything. Netherlands, though, looked just as battered as his brother and sister did, still showing signs of the famine that had killed hundreds, thousands of his people just a year ago.  
Belgium didn't even spare her young cousin a single glance. Luxembourg looked at him with a look of betrayal and hatred, even five years after their last and terrible encounter. Germany couldn't bring himself to look at them for long.  
Czech and Slovakia also showed nothing but disdain and anger over everything that had been done to them, and rightfully so. Poland's green gaze was cold as ice from where he stood beside Lithuania and Estonia and Latvia. France seemed to want to burn Germany to a crisp with his stare; his eyes were like blue fire, burning hotter than any regular, orange flame ever could. Greece, who never showed much emotion for all Germany had ever seen, was also glaring at him as he was brought in.  
Everyone was angry. Everyone hated him.  
He had known it would be like that, he had expected it and prepared for it, but no amount of mental preparation could ever be enough. The hatred, the disdain and furious disbelief that he saw everywhere was overwhelming.  
The main Allied Forces were seated behind the judge, and Germany knew from explanations he'd received some time ago that they were there to support the human judge in his decisions. Above all, they were there to help the man understand nations and their nature as much as needed during the trials.  
Looking at them, Germany tried to feel a little more hopeful. America had been kind most of the time. Russia was creepy, but that was mostly because he had such strange behaviour; he had a good heart deep down, or at least that's what Germany believed. Canada was one person he hadn't had much contact with, but he trusted America's brother wouldn't be any worse than America himself. The United Kingdom had shown him much kindness even when he had been their prisoner.  
The only one that he was really worried about was France. The old kingdom had always hated him and Prussia and he expected that hatred to have only grown deeper over the course of the war.  
The doors closed behind him. The noise it made was deafening to him in the otherwise silent courtroom. His heart pounding, the young nation glanced over his shoulder: Prussia, Austria and Hungary were seated not far behind him. His meagre defence in this trial. He had believed at first that, with these three people to support him, nothing could go wrong. Not much, at least. But now, faced with many more nations who were against him and realising that two of the three people who would defend him today were also to be trialled themselves, his hope disintegrated within seconds.  
Today would be many things, no doubt, but it sure wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

The young nation couldn't even bring himself to look up when he was spoken to. To his relief, for some reason, it was England's voice he heard. "Germany," the kingdom began calmly. "Before we formally begin, is there anything you would like to say or anything you want to ask? If you have any questions that you need answers to before we start, this is your last chance."  
Germany tried to swallow, hoping to do something about how dry his throat felt, but his mouth was dry like sandpaper. "J-just one thing," he choked out softly, still not daring to look up. "Has… has anything like this ever been done before…?"  
"No," was the cold answer he got. It was France, and Germany could just about picture him glaring as he heard the old nation's voice. "But then, this war has never been done before, either. Special measures are required in this case."  
England then asked if there was anything else, but Germany couldn't even answer anymore. How was he supposed to do this? How was he going to get out of all this? Not only was it a situation he had never been in himself, it was a situation no nation had ever been in before him. He had absolutely nothing to use as a reference, to base his actions on, nothing he could use as an example to fall back on if he didn't know what to do or say.  
He _hated_ not knowing what he could expect and how to respond to things. Especially now, it made him feel sick and light-headed.  
The first thing that was said to him as part of the official trials robbed him of his breath already, and his mind was spinning because of it. "Tens of millions of human lives have been lost in the past six years," England said, his voice quivering ever so slightly on the words as he obviously struggled with that knowledge as much as anyone did. "We're not even certain of the numbers of casualties yet and already this war has been declared the most devastating in world history. How do you expect to justify that, Germany?"  
Germany just stared at the older nation, wide-eyed, stunned silent. How he was going to justify all those pointless deaths? What kind of a question was that? The numbers seemed to echo in his mind. _Tens of millions. Not hundreds. Not thousands._ _ **Millions.**_ For just a second, he felt like he was going to pass out from sheer nerves, but he managed to keep himself together. More or less.  
He finally dared to glance around at the other nations who sat on either side of the courtroom, watching him in silence, their eyes saying more than words ever could. They all blamed him. Even if they didn't, their anger was still directed at him. And he couldn't begrudge them any of that. Eventually, looking back up at the Allied Nations and the human judge, he could tell from their expressions that his silence was starting to annoy them.  
Barely able to speak, Germany finally managed to force some words over his lips. "How do you expect me to respond…?" he just asked, his voice weak and high-pitched with fear and shame and confusion and every other emotion that was coursing through his body at that moment. "What is there to say? Y-you think I want to try and _justify_ everything that's happened?" He couldn't quite believe the question, even after giving it some time to sink in. How ridiculous of them to even think that he would try. "I can't. No one can. Nothing can ever justify something this terrible. So… So what do you expect me to say…?"  
There came no response, and the silence hit Germany like a whole mountain slamming into him. What was he supposed to do, what was he supposed to say? He tried to take a deep breath, which proved more difficult than he had thought. "Do you want to hear me say that I'm sorry?" he asked then, his voice hoarse and quiet. "That… That I'm so ashamed of what happened that I would rather just lie down somewhere and _die_ than anything else? But what good would that do?" He glanced around at the other nations again as he spoke. "A simple 'sorry' doesn't bring back all the innocent people who died, it doesn't turn back time and restore all the damage that's been done. I'm more sorry and more ashamed of what happened than I've ever been, but what does that even _matter_ , if it doesn't change anything?"  
His words were met with even more silence, until England, who Germany now figured was taking the lead out of all the Allied Nations (a task he didn't envy the man one bit), sighed. "It does matter, Germany," he replied evenly, without looking at the young nation at first. "At least we know that you don't condone any of what has happened the past years. That matters a lot, even if it might seem unimportant."  
"Bullshit," France said angrily, getting up and pushing England aside. His eyes were ablaze with fury as he stared at Germany. "If you really hated it so much, why didn't you do anything to stop it?"  
"What could I have done?" Germany asked in response, trembling where he stood. "That man wouldn't listen to a word I said. He told me that I was just a child, that I had no business meddling with affairs that didn't concern me, and I just had to keep my mouth shut and follow orders."  
France narrowed his eyes at this. "And so you just followed orders like a good little nation, did you now?"  
Once again, Germany couldn't breathe. Trying to suppress his nerves, he closed his eyes. "I did… All things considered, it was the only rational option I had." He looked back up at France, seeing the man ready to retort, and Germany quickly went on without giving him the chance. "I had to think of my people. They needed their nation, and if I stood up to Hitler, he would've had me locked away like he did with all his political enemies."  
Now, England spoke again, nudging France away, although the older kingdom wouldn't budge. His emerald gaze was unreadable as he looked at Germany. "So you say," he said calmly. "But how do you know he would have done so? How do you know it would have turned out so badly for you if you didn't even take the risk?"  
Before Germany could respond, he heard Prussia's voice behind him, steady and determined. "Because he did it to me."  
There were a few gasps in the room, but it was silent aside from that. Germany looked over his shoulder to see his brother had stood up from where he'd been seated, staring determinedly at the Allies. All eyes were turned on the albino now rather than Germany, and when the younger nation looked back at the Allies, he saw the nations looking uncertain of what to do or say. They started talking to each other in hushed voices after a minute or so, and eventually England sighed and nodded, looking down at Prussia then. "Prussia, your trial will take place tomorrow, not today," he said almost reluctantly. "Please sit down and do not interrupt like this anymore."  
"Now hold on," Scotland put in, looking rather displeased with his younger brother's decision. "Prussia, Austria and Hungary are here for a reason. If any of them have a valuable input in this case, then we should listen."  
"Except Prussia cannot be trusted," France argued, looking at Scotland briefly before glaring at his old friend. "That _maniac_ once swore that he would 'unleash hell on Europe, on the whole world if need be', and that's exactly what happened. I can just about imagine him celebrating everything that has happened."  
Scotland's eyes widened at this, and he stared at Prussia in shock for a moment, along with many other nations. Still, the old nation shook his head. "I've known Prussia for a long time and I've never known him to be like that," he said, unwilling to believe France's words. "Are you sure you're not letting your hatred for him cloud your judgement, France?"  
"He isn't," another voice suddenly said, and Germany turned to look to his left in complete shock. Spain was looking at the Allies with a look of apprehension in his eyes but determined nonetheless. "I was there when Prussia declared that he would take 'revenge' on the world, just like France. I've never had anything against Prussia, but even I cannot deny that he has his… moments. He is either sadistic and cruel or truly mentally ill, but he's said and done enough for anyone to know that something is wrong with him."  
Germany felt sick at hearing this, and for a moment he couldn't even process the words. Had Prussia really said all those things, or were France and Spain conspiring against him? Just looking at his brother gave him the answer.  
Prussia stepped forward then, tense all over, until he stood in front of Germany. The albino stared straight at the human judge when he spoke. "It's true what they said," he told the man calmly. "I've had my moments of wanting to watch the world burn and then spit on its ashes. But England was right when he said that this is Germany's trial, not mine, and Scotland was right in saying that my input matters as much as anyone else's."  
Germany saw that his brother was trembling as he spoke, and the older nation folded his hands into fists nervously. He couldn't see his face, but he knew his expression must be one of both determination and anguish.  
Prussia glanced around at all the other nations as he went on. "I understand that you would condemn anyone who didn't try to put an end to this war," he told them all. "But I can tell you with certainty that Germany had the right of it, following orders and staying on Hitler's good side throughout it all. I didn't, and I paid the price for it." Looking back up at the judge, he confessed: "I've tried to kill Hitler. I've plotted to assassinate him along with Von Stauffenberg and Tresckow, two names you should know well. I failed, obviously, just like they did."  
There were a few hushed whispers in the courtroom then, and Prussia turned his attention back to his fellow nations. "If you think that no leader would ever imprison their own nation or worse, think again," he told them with a steady voice. "Hitler imprisoned me for trying to stop him, and that was only the beginning of it. I know it may not seem like it to you, but Germany did the right thing. You more than anyone should understand that a nation's first duty is to his people, unconditionally. If he had been as foolish as I was and tried to stop Hitler, neither of us would have even survived."  
The Allies looked shocked when Prussia said this, and Canada was the first to speak this time. "Neither of you would have _survived_ it?" he stammered, confused and disbelieving. "But… Don't get me wrong, I understand that what he's put you through must have been terrible, but… surely he wouldn't have been able to kill you…?"  
America shook his head fiercely, his blue eyes wide with confusion, disbelief and distress just like his brother's. "No human can kill a nation! Prussia, you would do good not to exaggerate; it doesn't make the rest of what you're saying much more believable."  
"But he isn't exaggerating," Russia then put in, to everyone's surprise. The tall nation's voice was calm as he spoke but his eyes showed clear distress. "I was there when my people liberated the Auschwitz concentration camp. I went into the medical ward there, and I found some old documents." The Russian seemed to shudder for just a moment, and Germany wondered if he had imagined it. "They were all detailed descriptions of how humans have experimented on nations and in the end succeeded in finding not one, but several ways for humans to kill nations. I do believe I need not tell you which nations were the test subjects."  
All nations and also the humans looked completely disgusted and shocked at hearing Russia's words. The humans didn't seem to know who he was talking about, but when Germany dared to glance at the Benelux, he saw Netherlands and Luxembourg look pale as ghosts and Belgium had tears trailing down her face as they heard what had happened to their lost family members after so many years.  
England stared wide-eyed at Russia, then choked out: "What… what did you do with those documents…?"  
"What any sensible nation would do," Russia replied, averting his gaze. "I burnt them. No one needs to ever know any of what was written there. I do not even want to think of what could happen if the wrong person got such information."  
"So you destroyed what could be valuable evidence in this case," the human judge then put in, not looking quite as relieved as the nations did at Russia's actions. "I understand your point, Russia, but it was quite foolish of you."  
Russia looked at the human calmly. "Easy for a human to say," he replied a little stiffly. "Also, at the time I didn't know there would be trials. No one did. You can't blame me for it."  
England nodded, then turned back to Prussia. "So you believe Hitler would have killed you and Germany if you had stood up against him?"  
Prussia nodded stiffly. "That's what I was locked up in Auschwitz for in the first place," he confessed, his voice croaking on the words. He was shaking more violently now as he spoke. "I spent one month performing forced labour like many of the prisoners there, then after that month I was brought to the medical ward and left at Josef Mengele's 'mercy'. He was supposed to kill me, but he liked his experiments too much. He used me like a lab rat and experimented on me daily. D-did you know nations can regrow bones?" he then asked all of a sudden, his voice getting a little more high-pitched than before, and Germany could tell that his brother's emotions were starting to get the best of him. "I didn't. I didn't believe him when he said that. So to prove it to me, he cut off my finger." With a dry chuckle, Prussia lifted both his hands. "Well, it's back…! A-as are all my teeth, which he also pulled out just for the fun of it. L-luckily, m-my ribs have restored themselves after they were broken and he tried to make them heal in the wrong position."  
Even without looking at Prussia's face, Germany knew that the albino was on the verge of tears remembering everything that had been done to him, and the younger nation expected him to fall silent any moment now, like he always did when his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Prussia had already been more open than Germany had ever expected of him in front of so many nations, but he was certain that the Free State would not go any further than this, not if it meant risking having a panic attack for all of Europe to see.  
But Prussia didn't stop. "It was horrible… Every single day, week after week, for three months, that man tortured me like a cat playing with its prey before finally delivering the killing blow. I-I'd never been so terrified in my life..! I would have been dead if it weren't for Austria and also Poland, who got me out of that place. They saved my life."  
It wasn't until Germany heard a soft sniffle coming from his brother that he realised the Prussian was crying, or trying hard not to, in the middle of the courtroom whilst surrounded by dozens of nations. He himself was frozen to the spot listening to it; Prussia had never told him quite what had happened, and he had never expected nor wanted to know, so this was his first time hearing just what had been done to his brother. He couldn't help but picture Prussia, tied up, bone-thin and injured, his teeth being pulled one by one and his finger being torn off his hand. He felt sick.  
He watched in stunned silence as Prussia looked up directly at France, who stared back with an expression of pure horror. "If you need proof of what I'm saying," the albino choked out in a weak voice, "you need only look at my eyes."  
At this, France's expression hardened a little. "If you think your _honest_ expression would-!"  
But Prussia shook his head, interrupting the older nation. "No, I mean literally, the proof is in my eyes." He took a deep, shaking breath, held that for a moment then exhaled slowly. "T-that sick bastard injected blue chemicals into my eyes to try and change my eye colour. Some of it is still there."  
France hesitated for a moment, but then, urged by England and America, he stepped down and walked over to Prussia, halting in front of him. He grabbed the younger nation's face in his hands and looked closely, and Germany watched as all colour drained from France's face. The old kingdom stumbled back, looking nauseous over what he had just seen in Prussia's eyes. "Goddamn…" he choked out softly, seemingly all he could manage to say at that moment.  
Meanwhile, Prussia was speaking again, barely able to say a word and almost crying as he went on. "That maniac was capable of anything, I'm telling you," he stammered, his voice quivering with emotion and held-back tears. "I-if Germany had stood up to him and been locked up also, he would have rounded up Austria simply to complete the set, I've no doubt, and he would have had each of us killed just to ensure we wouldn't try to stop him. C-controversial as it may sound, I'm _proud_ of Germany for doing what he did! It wasn't easy, having to pretend we were okay with it all, having to follow orders from that psychopath, but he managed, all so that he could be there for his people when they needed him!" The Prussian paused for a moment, his breathing quick and shallow.  
Germany tried to move then, go to his brother, but he got a correcting stare from England, France, America, Russia, even Scotland, and he stopped himself.  
Prussia still wasn't finished, even though he was shaking like a leaf and close to hyperventilation. "Germany did the right thing. We couldn't have stopped Hitler no matter what we did. What he did was more difficult than you could possibly imagine; it took as much courage to sit by and do nothing as it did to try and stop it all! No matter what we did, it wouldn't have changed the outcome of this war. All those tens of millions of people would still have lost their lives, we would have also been killed, and no good would have come out of any of it!" He paused again, trying to catch his breath, but it was a feeble attempt. "If you say you wanted Germany to have put up a resistance against Hitler, that you wanted him to have tried and stop that man, then you're actually saying you wanted him to be tortured to death. And you can't… you can't seriously… can't wish that on anybody…!"  
Finally Prussia broke off, unable to say anything else, his breathing harsh and shallow as he frantically tried to draw in air. He was wheezing in complete panic and trembling violently.  
To hell with the Allies. If they would try to stop him again, Germany would simply ignore them this time. His brother was more important than their stupid trial and their stupid rules.  
But before Germany had very well been able to take the couple of steps it took to reach Prussia, Austria had already dashed past him. The older nation was standing in front of Prussia, gripping his shoulders firmly as he stared him straight in the eyes and whispered soothingly to him. "It's okay, Gilbert, it's okay. Just breathe in, all right? Breathe."  
"I-I _can't_ …!" Prussia choked out feebly, sounding terrified.  
But Austria just smiled at him. "Yes, you can. Of course you can. Come, sit down with me. Easy now." The Austrian very carefully knelt down, supporting Prussia as the albino did as he was told and sat down on the floor.  
Germany then quickly sat down behind Prussia and gently pulled his elder brother onto his lap, letting the nation lean back against him as Austria tried to calm him down.  
"We've done this before, Prussia," Austria whispered calmly. "Just like before, all right? Breathe in deeply. Go on, you can do it." He waited for a few seconds as Prussia tried desperately, just about managing in the end. Then Austria smiled. "Good. And you remember what comes after? Hold it in for three seconds. Just three short seconds is enough."  
Prussia nodded stiffly and did as he was told, then breathed out slowly when Austria told him to. The two cousins repeated that process a couple of times, until Prussia seemed to control his breathing again. Then the albino just stared at Austria for a little while, still shaking as he leant against his younger brother. "Thank you, Sissy…"  
Even at this insult, Austria smiled warmly. "That's okay. Take it easy, all right? You did well, Prussia. Really well."  
Germany nodded then, holding Prussia a little closer and pressing his face into his brother's white hair. "Thank you for what you did," he whispered to him, a little choked up himself. "It wasn't easy, I know. Thank you so much for trying to help me."  
Prussia sighed deeply. "Of course," he whispered back, relaxing in Germany's arms. "You're my little brother; I would do anything for you." He turned a little, leaning sideways against his brother now. "I just wish I could forget all that… Forget everything that's happened."  
 _There'll come a day when you won't have to remember anything anymore,_ Germany thought with a stab of grief. But he already felt better when he let his own thoughts sink in a little. He knew, from his own observations and Prussia's own words, that his brother wanted to live for a while yet, but he also knew that the closer the Free State would come to death, the more he would start to welcome it. Once he died, he really would be released from all his suffering, all his painful memories.  
He decided at that moment that Prussia's death should be something to postpone as long as possible, but also something to celebrate once it came.  
Hopefully he still had many years to prepare for it so that he would actually be able to stick with that decision when the time came.  
When he saw a figure approaching him and his brother, Germany looked up. France had come to stand beside Austria in front of the two brothers, his expression somewhat calm but his eyes betraying his unease over what he had just witnessed. Germany didn't say anything, but he felt Prussia stiffen when he looked up at his old friend, his long-time enemy.  
France, too, was quiet for a moment, but then took a deep breath. "Are you all right, Prussia?" he asked a little tentatively.  
Germany was surprised at these words, and Prussia just as much so. "I-I suppose so," the albino replied quietly. "A little lightheaded, though."  
France gave a short nod and let out a soft sigh, watching quietly as Prussia struggled to his feet; the Frenchman even offered his help when it looked like the Free State was going to lose his balance, but Prussia refused, determined to stand up by himself. Once he stood again, the albino looked at the older nation, and France held his gaze for a few long seconds. Then, a soft whisper. "I'm sorry…"  
Prussia blinked, silent, then nodded after a couple of heartbeats. "Me too."  
For a moment, Germany could do nothing but stare in confusion. He had believed he would never see the day that France and Prussia would be civil with each other, and now they were not only doing that, but also _apologising_ to one another? And for what, exactly? For what had just taken place, or for everything that had once caused the rift between the two old friends? Somewhere in between, maybe? He simply didn't understand one bit of it.  
Germany was shaken out of those thoughts when Prussia stumbled, and the young nation quickly caught and supported his elder brother; the Prussian was still a little shaky and clearly dizzy after breathing so erratically for a little while.  
France inspected them for just a second or so. "Perhaps you should take a break. Both of you." He looked back at the other Allies, who were watching quietly but with clear worry in their expressions. "If you all agree to it, of course."  
All the nations nodded in agreement, and some of the other nations around mumbled that they, too, thought it would be a good idea. Lastly the judge nodded approvingly. "I would like to discuss something with you all without them here for a moment; if they take a break for a little while, that would be the perfect opportunity. Austria should go, too. Also," he added after pausing briefly. "I think it would be best if one or two other nations would go with them for supervision."  
Immediately Scotland stood up. "I'll go," he offered, adding quickly: "If that's okay, of course."  
Beside him, Wales nodded. "I'll come along too, if you think that's all right, sir."  
The judge gave his permission without hesitation, although when Hungary asked if she could go with them, too, he said that he would like her to be present for the discussion he wanted to have, so in the end, only Scotland and Wales went with the three Germanic nations into the hallway.

* * *

Once outside, Germany felt like he could finally breathe more easily again. The courtroom seemed to have been slowly suffocating him; it was almost as good to step into the hallway as it would have been to step outside and breathe in a fresh breeze.  
Prussia and Austria seemed to feel a lot better, too, being away from all those eyes. The Prussian went to the first bench he saw, somewhere down the hallway, and sat down there with a sigh of gratitude. He sat with his eyes closed for a moment, breathing deeply, and Germany knew that his brother was still feeling dizzy. Hopefully he would feel better soon, now that he could rest up a little.  
Germany and Austria sat down beside him, and Scotland just about managed to sit on the albino's other side, although he was at least a quarter off the edge of the wooden bench like that. Wales was still in his wheelchair, so he stopped and sat in front of the four other nations.  
Scotland was the first to speak up after a short silence between the five men. "You know," he mumbled, half to himself it seemed, "I do still believe that it's unfair. These trials."  
"But then," Wales replied dryly, staring at his elder brother with an almost bored expression, "you think many things are unfair. I don't completely disagree with you, though."  
Scotland rolled his eyes at this comment. "It's like Cearul's case," he argued. "That the IRA are getting more and more hostile, doesn't mean the Old Man is, too."  
Again, Wales had a calm retort with which he proved the Scot wrong. "Except Cearul _is_ getting increasingly possessive about Coineach lately. Also, please don't try to compare the IRA to the Nazis. It's not even _close._ "  
Germany shifted uncomfortably as Scotland huffed, but the old kingdom didn't say anything else anymore. Tentatively, Germany spoke up: "I… I do see the point of this, though…"  
He quickly averted his gaze when both British nations stared at him in surprise, as well as Austria and Prussia, who didn't seem to understand his opinion one bit. The young nation just sighed now that he realised he had just condemned himself to having to explain. "These trials, whatever the outcome, won't bring justice," he began softly. "I truly do believe punishing me or Prussia or Austria would be unjust. Not doing anything, however, also wouldn't bring justice for all the terrible things that have been done. Nothing will be solved at all, no matter what the outcome of these trials will be." He paused, wondering whether or not to continue. He would probably have to. "But it's not completely useless: I never want to have to go through anything like today again. I also don't want another war, not ever, but… By now, should another war ever break out -I don't control any of that, anyway, so it doesn't matter what I want in that respect- I will at least make sure _this_ won't be the result of it." He bit the inside of his lip for a moment and closed his eyes. "At the start of this war," he confessed, "I decided that it would be better if I didn't care about the other nations who would suffer because of us. I would just do as I was told, even if that meant doing some… bad things."  
He'd begun to feel gradually more determined to make this clear with every word he spoke, and the young nation looked up at both Scotland and Wales. "After the Great War," he said, "brother and I were punished for something we never started. Isn't it common knowledge that every participant in that war bore equal responsibility, or near-equal? So why is it that Prussia and I received the steepest punishment?" He gritted his teeth, remembering how angry he had been about it. He still was. "When this war started, I promised myself to make sure I'd never again be blamed for something I didn't do. Since I would receive the blame anyway, I might as well just do as I was told."  
It was silent after he was done talking, until eventually Wales sighed. "Well, I guess I can understand that sentiment. No one had it easy after the Great War, but I suppose it's true that you two had it especially hard."  
"Being blamed for something you haven't done is never a nice feeling," Scotland added solemnly.  
"It's not," Germany just replied stiffly. "But this is worse. This is receiving blame mostly for something I didn't do, and partly for things I did do. After the Great War, I just felt like how we were treated was unfair. I felt despised for no reason. Feeling _guilty_ and _being_ guilty is a million times worse, especially in combination with being punished whilst mostly innocent." He clenched his hands into fists. "I'll avoid going through something like this again, I swear. Never again."  
Prussia hummed at this, smiling a little. "Well, I second that."  
Austria chuckled. "Third."  
Both Scotland and Wales smiled approvingly, silent for a moment, before Scotland looked at Prussia. "Are you doing all right now, Gil?" he asked carefully. "Just earlier, you looked pretty bad, to be honest."  
Wales nodded, also looking a little bit concerned. "Hearing what you went through, I completely understand if all that was really just panic and fear, but if by any chance you're ill… Well, I'm sure that we can pull some strings so that you won't have to come here again tomorrow."  
Prussia shook his head immediately. "No, I'm fine. Thanks, though." Without looking at either of the two older nations, the Prussian sighed, gaze fixed on the floor. "One of these days I'll get over what happened. It's just… taking longer than I'd hoped…"  
"Hey, Pipsqueak," Wales then began gently, using the nickname he'd used for Prussia the first time they met. "If you're feeling ashamed of that panic attack earlier, quit doing so right this instant." Prussia looked up at the principality when he heard this, a little surprised. Wales was staring at him with a hard, dark green gaze. "I'm pretty sure what you told us wasn't even _half_ of what was done to you," the old nation told him, voice a little harder than before. "And trust me, if I'd been through something like that, I would seriously be pissing myself if I had any flashbacks of it."  
Scotland then nudged his friend, smiling reassuringly. "I had nightmares for _years_ after the chlorine incident," he said. "And that was only one day! Given, the effects lasted about a year, but after a little while, being blind didn't freak me out anymore. It was that day, that attack, that scared the living daylight out of me." He sighed softly and looked away. "Sometimes still does."  
Germany felt a twinge of guilt, but pushed it away. Instead he allowed himself to feel the relief that welled up in him when he saw his elder brother relax a little more when he heard this.  
Prussia still didn't seem to be at ease, though, and the other nations all noticed it, too. The two British brothers glanced at each other for a moment, then looked back at the albino.  
"Hey, and what happened to the arrogant little shithead we all know and love yet despise at the same time?" Wales asked, sounding like he had to force himself to sound cheerful by now. "This isn't like you. I mean, you're _Prussia!_ Arrogance and rudeness and being loud and annoying seems to be in your _blood_. Who's this silent, withdrawn guy, and what have you done with Prussia?"  
The joke didn't seem to reach Prussia much. "Arrogance is in my blood, eh?" he muttered, half to himself. "I guess… But then, I suppose it bled out of me over the past years…" He ignored everyone except Germany for a moment, when he leant against his little brother's shoulder and closed his eyes with a sigh. "I'm still a little dizzy," he mumbled softly.  
Germany then put an arm around the Free State, feeling his heart skip a beat even though he had expected as much. "Just keep breathing," he replied calmly, trying to ease his own nerves as much as his brother's. "Breathe and take it easy. That's the best thing you can do."  
"I'll see if I can get us all something to drink," Austria then suggested, getting to his feet. He'd only taken a few steps before he halted however, and muttered without looking back: "Assuming I don't need an escort for this, too?" It came out almost as a sneer, surprising Germany.  
And not only Germany, although Scotland and Wales didn't show it much. Not until Austria left after they said that, of course not, he could go wherever he liked. Only when he was out of earshot did Wales look at his brother, who shrugged. Then the principality turned to Germany and Prussia questioningly.  
He didn't even have to ask anything for Germany to reply. "We've all had a tough time," the young nation stated, looking down at his brother: the Prussian hadn't moved an inch since leaning against Germany. He sighed. "Austria has been worked half to death. He hated his job in the concentration camps. But then, what sane person wouldn't…? Yet, they kept forcing him back there, again and again and again."  
"He'll come around," Prussia added softly, completely out of the blue. "He, like all of us, just needs some time."

It took nearly ten minutes before Austria came back, but when he did, he was holding a tray with five glasses of water. "Why must they always hide the kitchen…?" he grumbled then. "Thing is, buildings like these always have one, even if it's a tiny one. What their reason is for hiding them away in some corner of the building, I don't have a clue. Stupid humans." He went on to hand Scotland and Wales a glass each, saying nothing as the two nations thanked him for it. Next he gave Germany his glass, but then put the tray on the bench and leant down to be on eye-level with Prussia.  
The Austrian gave his cousin a careful nudge. "Gil," he whispered to him; Prussia had just started dozing off against Germany's shoulder. "Gil, it's already past four," Austria went on carefully. "You need to… you know. Especially after earlier, you really shouldn't skip a day."  
Germany's gaze flickered to the two British brothers, who said nothing but looked curious. Meanwhile, Prussia sat up straight and shot Austria an annoyed look. He thanked him softly, though, when he was handed his water. The Free State stuck his free hand into his chest pocket, taking out the two little pills he'd taken with him. He was as quick about swallowing them as he could be, as if he didn't want Scotland and Wales to see it, so much so that he nearly choked on the water and started coughing.  
When the coughs ceased again, Prussia looked at the two older nations through narrowed red eyes. "Not a word about this to anyone," he muttered darkly, although he then added almost desperately: " _Please._ "  
Both shook their heads and promised to keep quiet. Neither of them seemed to even dare to ask what the pills were for, which came as a relief to Germany, knowing that Prussia would loathe to explain it even more than he did, and Germany already hated the thought with a passion.  
Actually he didn't want to talk about anything right now, but he also felt increasingly uncomfortable with every passing second. He was glad to be out of the courtroom and away from prying eyes, grateful that the only two nations that went with him and his brother and cousin were kind and understanding, he really was. But he couldn't stand knowing that decisions were being made about him just down the hallway and he had no idea what those decisions were. Just thinking about it, the young nation felt sick with nerves, but he couldn't stop his mind from wandering off to those unnerving thoughts.  
Suddenly he felt an arm around his shoulder, and he turned to see Prussia staring at him with a gentle expression. "Stop worrying, little bro," the albino whispered, smiling a little. It looked forced at first, but soon became more genuine. "It'll all be fine. I know it will."  
"I'm getting the feeling this trial is more symbolic than anything else," Austria added on Germany's other side, also sounding a lot calmer than earlier. "I've seen a few trials in my life, and this isn't how they normally go. I wouldn't worry, if I were you."  
Germany nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, he answered: "I hope you're right…"

* * *

It was at least two hours before they were called back into the courtroom. Germany was trembling lightly as he stepped back to where he had stood before, and he was still struggling to look up at the judge and the Allies.  
It was the judge who spoke this time around, not England. "Germany," the human began. "The charges held against you were assault on Luxembourg, assault on Italy Romano and collaboration with the Nazi regime. Be brief and honest: did you or did you not do all these things?"  
A little surprised at the way this was phrased, Germany nodded. "I… I did."  
The man was quiet for a second or so, then gave a brisk nod. "Then I hereby find you guilty of all charges. However, you shall not receive any penalty for your deeds."  
Those words robbed Germany of his breath, of his ability to think. His mind went blank in an instant. He could vaguely hear the judge telling Austria and Prussia that the same went for the two of them and that they would have no separate trials anymore, but didn't really process it. His thoughts were still stuck on those two words, 'no penalty'. Did that mean it was over? He'd thought the trials would be days, maybe weeks of hell.  
It had only been a day.  
Just as that began to sink in, something heavy slammed into his back and he was thrown to the floor. Stunned for a second, the young German then turned onto his back; Prussia was on top of him, holding him in a crushing hug. Even as Germany sat up, Prussia just wouldn't budge, clinging to his little brother in what was likely the tightest embrace since their reunion earlier that year.  
Germany didn't even care that there were so many nations surrounding them, he just swung his arms around his brother with as much force as Prussia used. All his fear and anxiety from earlier just disappeared, relief washing over him with the force of a tsunami. He actually felt choked up over it, but he just about managed to suppress that. Relieved or not, with all these nations around, there were still limits.  
"See, Ludwig?" Prussia choked out in a soft whisper. "I told you everything would be all right. I'm telling you, Hungary pulled some strings for us here."  
Germany couldn't answer. He feared that, if he opened his mouth, he would simply start crying in sheer relief, and he really couldn't have any of that. He just hoped Prussia knew that what he had said, no matter how difficult it might have been for him to do so, had no doubt helped a lot also. _And I guess Gilbert would tell me not to underestimate how much I did myself, too,_ he thought with a tiny smile.  
He would have to thank Hungary, whatever it was she had said to get this done. He didn't care what it had been, either; it could be the most embarrassing thing anyone had ever said about him for all he cared. The results were worth it.  
 _Everything is… all right…_

* * *

 **So yeah, I never planned on letting them be punished. Well, not in these trials, anyway.  
(I mean, we all know that they did in the end receive one _steep_ punishment, the poor things)  
**

 **But yeah... A suspenseful day for them, but in the end, it all turned out well.  
(I couldn't make it even worse on my poor babies...!)**

 **Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	36. Chapter 36

**I'm back again! Took a little while longer than planned, but ah well, can't always help it. Appointments, chores, preparing for uni... Real life stuff.**

 **Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favourited and followed! You guys made me do it again, I swear. The squealing. Still doesn't sound natural or healthy, but hey, it's a good thing! (I guess ^~^' Nah, I'm certain it is)  
Thank you all so so so much!**

 **I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. I tried to make it brighter and fluffier than the last one (which, thinking about it, shouldn't be too hard actually)**

* * *

During late spring 1946, Germany and Prussia had decided to do one of the things they had been talking about for months: they had left, just the two of them, and gone camping in a forest. Just being away from civilisation, away from their worries, away from people and other nations.  
Germany was fascinated watching his brother just… change. Prussia became almost an entirely different man the moment they left the city. He was the one providing them with food, although he was also teaching Germany to do it himself.  
The Prussian had taken a pocket knife with him and some strings, found a good piece of wood and started crafting a bow. He'd sent Germany out to gather stones that could be filed down to arrow tips, and by the time Germany had returned, Prussia was already finishing up the bow. By evening, the albino had made himself a well-functioning bow and a set of arrows that would last them for two days, provided that the hunt went well.  
Prussia had then, just two hours before nightfall, taken Germany out hunting. The young nation had been amazed at how silent and nimble his brother could be if he put his mind to it. Prussia was tall, strong, well-muscled. He wasn't as bulky as Germany was, but he was certainly not the type one would expect to be stealthy and agile. Watching him, Germany felt almost as if he was looking at the Prussia of a couple of centuries ago, when he had been young and lived on his own. Of course Prussia had told him about how he used to hunt for food, help out farmers to earn some money or be paid in grain. It was with mercenary work as a Teutonic Knight and little chores like those that he made a living. Accommodation was one thing the Knights provided him with, like with any of their 'brothers', but he'd been expelled for some time, too. Between then and meeting the Holy Roman Empire, this had been what his life had looked like.  
Germany was certainly impressed.

Germany was following Prussia as quietly as he could, trailing behind a little so as to not startle any potential prey. At one point, Prussia signalled to him to halt and be quiet, and the young nation watched with bated breath as his brother drew his bow, took aim, then shot. The arrow that exploded from his hand-made weapon sailed through the air at amazing speed, and Germany thought that he'd miss it if he blinked. He probably would have, too.  
"I hope rabbit's to your taste, little bro!" Prussia declared proudly, still in a hushed voice, as he quickly moved forward, following the direction his arrow had gone in. The Free State disappeared behind bushes for a moment, then reappeared with a rabbit hanging limply from his grasp. He was pulling out the arrow as he walked.  
Germany couldn't suppress a smile as his brother brought back his catch. "That was amazing!" he praised the Prussian. "You used to do this all the time? That must have been a lot of work."  
Prussia just chuckled. "Not all the time," he answered with a grin. "As a Teutonic Knight, we sometimes caught our own food, sometimes we bought it or were given provisions by villagers as we passed through. My years with Holy Rome were pretty much luxury for that time: we didn't even have to prepare our meals by ourselves!" He hummed then and looked away, grinning. "Or, actually, that is luxury in this day and age, too. The quality of the meals just was that much worse compared to nowadays. Now let's see… After I went back to my land, I lived on my own for a while. Same lifestyle as the Teutonic Knights, but I had a house and didn't travel all the time. Then I went to live with my leader's family when I became a duchy, and from then on… Back to luxury!"  
The albino laughed to himself, and Germany only stared at him until he was already way ahead of his little brother. "Well, don't ruin it, just when I'm getting impressed about what you do…" With a sigh and a grin, the young nation said with a chuckle, even though Prussia was out of earshot by then. Shaking his head in amusement, he went after his brother.

* * *

Once roasted, the rabbit tasted surprisingly good. They had some bread with them, but they decided to leave that for the next day, as Prussia's catch was large enough to serve as a full meal for the evening.  
Prussia smiled as he watched Germany with the rabbit he'd caught. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt to have to work for your food like this. Of course he and Germany worked to make a living, but being able to sit down and eat something you caught yourself was a special feeling. He hadn't realised he'd missed it.  
"So?" he began to his little brother. "Do you want to try the bow tomorrow, too?"  
Germany nodded, but his eyes said the opposite. "Do we have arrows enough for that, though?" he asked a little worriedly. "I'm fairly certain that I'll mess it up, and that rabbit won't last us another day."  
"We've got bread for a day," Prussia reminded him. "And we can make new arrows."  
Germany shrugged, looking uncertain still. "We'll see. Thanks, anyway."  
Silent for a moment, Prussia then sighed. Turning sideways, he grabbed one of the bottles of water they'd brought with them; the two brothers had enough water with them to last them a week. That was one thing they wouldn't leave up to chance. After the war, they feared groundwater might not be drinkable anymore in some areas. Many things might have contaminated water, after all: waste, perhaps even chemical waste, but also… corpses. There were mass graves in some areas, mainly around old concentration camps, but perhaps there were some around here, too, and they had just not been found yet.  
As Prussia took the lid off one of the bottles, he smiled wryly. "This really does ruin the mood, you know?" he said to his little brother. "Out hunting earlier, it almost felt like the good old days. I used to drink water from rivers all the time, you know? Or brooks, or lakes… Rainwater was always a good one, too." Taking a swig of his water, he went on: "The water wasn't exactly clean, but it was fine. It never killed us."  
"I disagree," Germany answered with a smirk. "Life expectancy was a lot lower back in your so-called 'good old days'. Also, you just admitted that the water wasn't clean back then. You need clean water now. Don't complain."  
Prussia huffed at this. _What's that supposed to mean?_ "We _both_ need clean water," he corrected the younger nation. "I'm not a special case, you know." But as he then took his pills for the day, swallowing them with water quickly, he realised that was a lie. He just didn't want to think about that right now. They'd left to leave their troubles behind for a little while, and his health fell under that category.  
Germany had been sick for a week or two, but Prussia's brief illness just a few weeks ago had been both shorter and more intense. It had lasted five days, two of which he had been unable to eat altogether. Since then, Germany had been very protective over his elder brother, to the point that Prussia got annoyed with him sometimes.  
Prussia stiffened for a moment when Germany suddenly leant towards him and put his arms around him, but then he relaxed and smiled. "You just need to take extra good care of yourself for just a little while," the young German said to him. "Until the effects of the war have subsided. As long as we're both a little unstable health-wise, I want you to be careful."  
Patting his little brother on the back, Prussia smiled wider. "I will be, you know that," he assured the young nation. He hugged him back only briefly before he let go again and moved away. "Now finish your meat and then we'll finish setting up that tent. Tomorrow I'll teach you to work that bow, all right?"  
Finally, Germany smiled a little. "All right. Thanks, Prussia."

* * *

" _Ow!_ Shit, that… That hurt more than I thought it would."  
Germany was scowling at the bow in his hand, then gingerly rubbed the fresh scrape on the inside of his arm.  
Prussia smiled warmly and shook his head amusedly. "You need to bend your arm more as you hold the bow," he explained calmly, walking back up to his brother's side and helping him hold the weapon in the right position. "That way, it won't hit your arm as you shoot. If the arrow hits your arm, it'll hurt even more, trust me." He glanced at his brother's arm then and smiled wryly. "Although I must admit, you already gave yourself quite the scrape there. How did you even do that?"  
"You tell me," Germany sighed in response. "Guns are much easier, I swear."  
"And also a lot less suited for hunting," Prussia argued. "With that godawful noise, you can shoot maybe one animal before you've scared away the entire forest. Arrows are much more silent than bullets and work just as well, provided the right person wields the bow."  
Germany huffed softly and lowered the bow. "I think I might not be that person…" But when Prussia then told him to try again, the younger nation still did so, and this time he could at least shoot an arrow without injuring himself. He didn't quite hit the target, but the arrow was at least lodged firmly in the bark of the tree he'd shot at. Another shot, and this time he did hit the target.  
Prussia smiled wide when he saw this. "We'll see about that yet, Ludwig," he said proudly. "And even if it's not a weapon for you, that doesn't matter. You don't have to be a genius with every weapon, you know."  
"You are," was Germany's only answer as he drew the bow again, aimed, then shot. In the target again. But then he handed the bow to Prussia silently and went to retrieve the arrows that could be used again. When he handed those to his brother also, he sighed softly. "I'll leave the hunting to you, if you don't mind," he told his brother solemnly. "I'm not even going to try moving targets, we'd go hungry if I did." With a tiny smile, he added: "Thanks for teaching me, though."  
Prussia ruffled his little brother's hair with a grin. "Thank _you_ for indulging me and _letting_ me teach you a thing or two!" he laughed. "I enjoyed myself, doing this. It's been too long since I felt like the big brother between us two." He stood up on his toes as he said this, but even then he only just about reached the same height Germany did. With a huff, the Free State stood normally again. "You just had to grow taller than me, didn't you?"  
Germany smirked a little at this, patting his elder brother on the head mockingly. "Stop whining, pipsqueak."

* * *

After a week, the two brothers decided it was time to head home again. Or, 'home'… They still had to stay at the Cecilienhof, unable to get a house in Berlin yet. At least they weren't under so-called supervision from any nations anymore now, although they were still surrounded by Russians day in and day out. Still, these men had _allowed_ them to leave for a week, which they hadn't expected in the least, so they both felt a little less hostile. Also as if the Russians were a little less hostile towards them. So even though they didn't like the lack of privacy they got, at least life was a lot easier on them than it had been when they first came to the Cecilienhof a year before.  
Prussia didn't get into fights with the Russians anymore, which also only served to make life more relaxing; the albino had given himself a project to work on, which distracted him from the constant presence of the Soviet soldiers. He was working on copying each of his old journals with a typewriter, so that, if the centuries-old books would finally perish, he wouldn't lose his old records of events.  
Germany liked to help his brother with it. It was work that didn't require him to think much, he just had to keep typing, so whenever he worked on this with Prussia, he could just zone out and forget his worries. Some of the things he read and copied were almost disturbing, but he quickly learnt to ignore that. He knew that Prussia had been in a pretty dark place many times over the course of the centuries, and the things he wrote down would of course reflect that. Soon enough, instead of freaking him out, these things only saddened him, knowing that his brother had been either so angry or so distraught at the time of writing what he had that he sometimes came across as almost insane. Maybe he really had been driven mad with grief at times, or fear or anger.  
There were many good things written down in the countless books, however, and Prussia would often end up telling Germany long stories about whatever they had come across. For the first time ever, Prussia was comfortable enough to tell his little brother about his and Brandenburg's wedding day, a story which left both of them in tears with laughter. There was also a rather cryptic journal entry about Old Fritz, who at the time had only been a teenager of course. Germany figured out soon enough what 'weird' was supposed to mean in this one, but Prussia still wanted to tell him the story. The nation had been quite drunk, had been in an argument that escalated into a fistfight with Poland, and Fritz had brought him to his room to tend to his wounds and make him sleep off the alcohol.  
That night had been the first time that Prussia had ever questioned his sexuality, apparently.  
"Okay, okay, you can stop now," Germany grunted when his brother was about to go on. He half expected the Prussian to go into details he really didn't care to know.  
Prussia just chuckled, though. "Oh, relax, Ludwig," he laughed. "I'm _really_ not going to tell you all about our little… _moments_."  
"Good," Germany sighed, laughing also. "You had me worried for a moment there, brother." The young nation shifted then, a little uncomfortable with what he wanted to ask now, but he really wanted to know more about this. "Can you, maybe… Could you tell me about our family?"  
Prussia was quiet for a moment, surprised, but then he smiled. "Of course. What do you want to know?"  
After a brief hesitation, Germany decided it didn't even matter. Anything that he hadn't heard before would be great. "What was Saxony like?" Prussia had never told him much about the Saxon, seeing as his death had been quite traumatic to the Prussian and he rather avoided thinking about his elder brother.  
This time, the Free State didn't seem to mind much, being in too good a mood to have it ruined now. "Oh, Saxony could be a prankster when he wanted to," the albino said with a grin. "You should've seen how he used to tease Netherlands with his fear of heights. When Brandenburg and I got engaged, he just could not shut up about that, either. If I wasn't embarrassed already on our wedding day, he would've _made_ me get embarrassed, I swear. The older he got, the less joking he became, though, which was a shame…" The older nation sighed then. "It was sometime during the War of Austrian Succession that he and I started fighting. Unfortunately we never made up again before he died, but… Well, I've got plenty of fond memories with my big bro, and that's enough for me."  
It was quiet for a moment after that, until Prussia asked if there was anyone else Germany wanted to hear about. The young nation had to think for a moment, but then decided he would just make the most of it now that his brother was in such a talkative mood. "Maybe… Maybe Brandenburg…?" he suggested almost tentatively. "From before you got married."  
Prussia chuckled. "Ah, but that's the least interesting part!" he joked, although his voice had already changed entirely now: it had that warmth and love that Germany was used to hearing whenever Prussia talked about his precious wife, however rarely he did so. Although if he had to be honest, it was becoming less rare for Prussia to talk about Brandenburg these days.  
With a soft sigh, Prussia started talking: "We first met when Holy Rome came to Marienburg for a visit and brought her with him. That was in the 14th century, when there were issues with Plague, and as you can imagine, people didn't particularly like me during that time. Even less than usually, I mean." He averted his gaze for just a moment, clearly not comfortable with the memories. "By the time Holy Rome and Brand came, I had been alone for a while, stuck inside my house because I would be attacked if I left. I was dehydrated, hungry and _so lonely._ I think part of the reason I was instantly fond of Brand was that she kept me company when I was in such a state." He barked out a short laugh then, adding: "And I guess the food she brought me also helped!"  
Germany also laughed softly at this. Sometimes Prussia could be so shallow… Just sometimes. But then, if he had been going hungry for days, he would be grateful to anyone who would end that for him, too.  
Prussia already went on then. "I think Holy Rome already saw some… 'potential' between us two," he mused, half to himself it seemed. "After a little while, he asked me what I thought of her, which is normal of course. But then he mumbled to himself, saying that he had plans for us." He laughed sheepishly, a little awkwardly. "If only I had figured out what he meant, I would've figured out that he planned for us to marry all along! At least, in hindsight, I'm fairly certain that's what he meant."  
"300 years before you actually got married?" Germany asked, amazed. "That's… kind of freaky."  
"Oh, Holy Rome had his ways," Prussia then said with a tiny smirk. "If he wanted something done, he got it done. He talked about marrying Hungary off to Austria as a reward for his loyalty in the 16th century, and he never even lived to see their marriage. He wanted me to help unite his territories, and though I wasn't in time to save his life…" The Free State then looked at Germany with twinkling red eyes. "You're here now, aren't you? Holy Rome was a mysterious person, all right. Sometimes I thought he was psychic, that man. A definite case of clairvoyance, if such a thing even exists."  
He took a deep breath then. "As for Brandenburg… She and I soon became best friends. At the time, I believe she was a better friend than Hungary was, and Lizzie's been dear to me all my life. It didn't take very long for Brandenburg to become as dear to me as Holy Rome. I can honestly say that I loved her long before I _loved_ her, if that makes sense."  
Germany could only nod, unsure how to answer. He could understand that feeling, probably. He thought he did, anyway.  
Prussia looked at his little brother again, his gaze warm and filled with love. "She would have loved you so much, Ludwig," he sighed. "She does, in fact. She really would have been like a mother for you, I'm certain of that. She would have been doting on you continually when you were little. Hell, even now she would." He glanced to his side then, silent abruptly, then he smiled even wider. "I know."  
Surprised, Germany blinked at his brother, wondering what that was about. "Gilbert…?" It wasn't the first time his brother acted weird, talking to thin air, and he would like to hear an explanation for that now, too.  
Chuckling, Prussia looked at the younger nation again. His eyes were twinkling with joy. "She _is_ doting on you day and night, Ludwig!" he laughed, sounding very happy for some reason. "Oh, if only you would notice it for once…"  
 _…What?_ The young nation was thoroughly confused now. "What are you talking about?"  
"Oh, Ludwig, I've been able to see them all for ages," Prussia said suddenly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Maybe I should've told you about it, but then, would you have believed me? You're not exactly accepting of the fact that there's more to life than what you can touch and see and hear."  
Was that supposed to be an insult? Germany wasn't sure what to think of it, really. It wasn't important, anyway. The important part was that Prussia thought he could see ghosts. "Do you know how ridiculous this sounds?" That was the first thing he managed to get over his lips, rather bluntly.  
Prussia sighed deeply, his good mood fading a bit. "What else could I have expected…?" he muttered to himself. "Stupid, saying such a thing to Ludwig…"  
But as Prussia was muttering to himself like that, Germany suddenly got an idea. He suddenly remembered a dream he'd had the year before, weeks before he had been reunited with his brother and cousin. Brandenburg had told him in a dream that the two had been in Switzerland, and that had turned out to be true. Maybe she hadn't been his imagination, then? There was one way to test that, and also to see if Prussia was telling him the truth now.  
He took a deep breath, then interrupted his brother's muttering. "I dreamt about Brandenburg." Instantly, Prussia was quiet, staring at him wide-eyed. Germany's stomach twisted uncomfortably, but he forced himself to go on. "She helped me out a bit, I'll admit. But if you can talk to her, you must know that." He narrowed his eyes a bit. "So can you tell me what her best advice to me was?"  
For a moment, it looked like Prussia was stunned, but then he looked to his side again, silent. After a few seconds, a warm smile appeared on his lips, and he turned back to look at Germany. "She told you to remember who you are," he said without any hesitation.  
That answer robbed Germany of his breath. His heart skipped a beat, and before he was even aware of it, he felt tears prick in his eyes. "She… She was real…?" All this time he had _wanted_ to believe that Brandenburg had been real in his dreams, that he had some connection to his deceased family after all and that they were looking out for him, but he never really had.  
Until now.  
Prussia remained a lot calmer than him, of course. The Free State just leant over to his little brother and smiled at him. "Of course she's real," he replied calmly. "They all are. Ludwig, they're always with us, _always._ It took me a while to understand that too, but now I do." The Prussian was quiet for a moment, but then put his arms around the younger nation. "Even when we were separated during the war," Prussia went on softly, "you weren't ever alone. I know you felt like it, and I'm still so sorry that you had to, but they never left your side."  
Germany struggled to breathe as his brother was telling him this. He wanted to believe every word of it, but it was hard. This was one topic he had never put much thought into. He'd never wanted to. Prussia had tried to teach him many things since he'd been a child, most of which he had succeeded in. However, the older nation had _tried_ to raise Germany as a Christian and he had _tried_ to raise him to believe in life after death, but he'd failed in both. Germany believed that nations would normally be reincarnated if they died, because that was a proven fact, but that was about all.  
Well, maybe it was time for him to be more open, then. There was no way Prussia could have known what had been said to Germany in a dream more than a year ago if all this wasn't real.  
There was one thing he didn't understand, though. "H-how come _you_ can see them and talk to them all the time, then, if I can't?" he asked a little hoarsely. "I've only seen Brandenburg in a dream twice, m-maybe three times…? How do you…?"  
Prussia sighed with a wry smile, carefully tapping the side of his head with two fingers. "My brain was messed up a bit, remember?" He chuckled for a moment, almost anxiously. "Well, uh… Let's just say it was one good thing that came out of that stroke. I don't really get how it works, either, but I'm grateful for it." His expression darkened a little, a flash in his red eyes as he shrunk back just slightly. "Without them to keep me company in… you know… I would seriously have lost my mind. I don't think I would have made it if they hadn't been there for me."  
Although he found it difficult to comprehend, Germany nodded silently when his brother explained this part. He could fully understand Prussia's feelings over having his family with him when he'd been locked up and tortured, that part was nothing surprising. It was that the Prussian had been able to see ghosts for over a decade now that just wouldn't process in his mind. So all this time, whenever Prussia had been acting weird, he had actually been having conversations? Germany almost regretted his decision to be open to this now: it was a lot to take in.  
 _Just a few minutes ago, we were copying old journal entries and talking casually,_ he thought, his head spinning. _When did the conversation change this drastically?_  
He swallowed the lump of nervousness in his throat. "S-so even though I cannot see or hear them," he asked softly, "they can see and hear me, right?" Prussia nodded silently, confirming this, and Germany took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "In that case…" What was he doing? This was insane. Still, he felt he should at least say this. "Thank you… all of you. Thank you for staying with us both, for helping us when we need you… And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for… for not knowing you were here."  
It was silent after he finished speaking, and after a few seconds the young nation opened his eyes again, looking up at his brother. Prussia was smiling warmly at him, his eyes full of emotion. He didn't say anything for a little while, but eventually he choked out a few words.  
"You don't need to apologise to them, Ludwig. Not ever."

* * *

Months passed quickly, while at the same time it felt as if time was crawling by.  
By the end of 1946, Prussia was sick once again. He couldn't hide that from Germany, of course, but he did his best to at least hide the severity of it. He didn't want his little brother to worry about him too much, but he had to admit that he felt pretty bad.  
In fact, he had spent the past hour in the bathroom, sitting next to the toilet just in case. The Free State sat in the corner of the small room, leaning against the wall and trying to focus on his breathing. He stomach was churning continually.  
To make things even more fun, Holy Rome, Brandenburg and Old Prussia were with him, and they proved themselves unable to agree on anything once again.  
"Guys, please," Prussia rasped eventually, after having had to listen to their arguing for minutes on end. "My head is pounding and you're not helping." A cold shiver went down his spine when he felt bitter bile rise in his throat.  
Old Prussia only huffed, but both Holy Rome and Brandenburg apologised. "Maybe you should go back to bed," Holy Rome suggested. "It must be long past midnight by now, and you've only been sitting here for at least ten, fifteen minutes now."  
Prussia shook his head, lips pressed together tightly. He took a deep breath before he dared to open his mouth again. "There's definitely still something there, and I don't want to lie down and have to race back here within minutes." Just as he said that, he could taste bile again, and he shuddered. "I've got a feeling I won't have to wait much longer, anyway."  
Old Prussia looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, whatever floats your boat," she sighed. "But you know, if that little brother of yours wakes up to find you gone, he'll know something's up. He's not stupid, certainly not."  
Brandenburg then knelt down in front of Prussia, looking at him with a warm blue gaze but worry also sparking in her eyes. "Maybe you should just tell him, dear," she said softly. "It's better if you're honest with him than that you let him find out on his own."  
Prussia sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's just the _flu_ , for Heaven's sake! Anyone would think I'm dying, the way you all go on about it." He didn't quite realise what he'd said until he'd done it, and he added more softly: "And… I'm not, right? N-not yet? This _is_ just the flu, right?"  
Holy Rome nodded immediately. "Of course, this is just the economy affecting you," he answered reassuringly. "Still, you shouldn't pretend you're doing better than you really are. If it gets worse suddenly, then what will you do? Say, for example, you'll be bedridden before this is over. That might not be too surprising to _you_ , since you're the one feeling everything, but Ludwig might not see it coming as much as you would. You'd give him a good scare, if such a thing were to happen."  
"Yeah, well," Prussia muttered, averting his gaze. "He's been… off lately. I don't know what it is, but he's been overly protective of me all year. If I so much as sneeze, he's making a fuss over it." He sighed, leaning back against the wall. "It's getting on my nerves, if I have to be honest."  
Brandenburg looked like she was going to answer, but instead she shoved out of the way quickly when Prussia suddenly had to lean over the toilet again. Nothing happened yet, though, and she sighed. "You really should go back to bed," the young woman said carefully. "You won't get better if you don't sleep."  
Well, something happened, all right. Prussia flinched at the bitter and sour taste that stayed in his mouth. And just after that had faded a bit, too. He would really have to make a detour to get water before he would go to bed, or he wouldn't be able to sleep at all. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he sat back, looking at Brandenburg sideways. "Well, so far I haven't gotten any better even if I _did_ sleep, so…" He sighed once again and leant back against the wall. "Ah, it'll pass in its own time."  
There was another reason he didn't want Germany to know just how bad he felt now: Germany wasn't exactly healthy himself, after all. Prussia just didn't want to be taken care of by his little brother anymore. No matter what, Prussia was the elder brother, and he still felt that it was his duty to look after Germany, not the other way around. Circumstances had forced them to switch roles for some time, but Prussia wanted to change that again. Germany had been so protective over him lately. He just wanted that to end, he wanted to be the one taking care of his little brother again and for Germany to be just a little more carefree again.  
Prussia being sick wouldn't help the young nation become that bit more carefree, especially not when he wasn't doing too well himself.  
With a soft huff, Prussia heaved himself to his feet, flushed the toilet, then stumbled back to his bed -but not before drinking a bit, because he really needed to get that taste out of his mouth before he would even have the chance to sleep.

To his relief, Germany was fast asleep still, exactly like he had been when Prussia had left over an hour ago. Prussia watched him for a few seconds, then walked over to his side and leant down to give him a very careful kiss on the side of his head. Germany stirred, turned onto his other side, but didn't do anything else.  
"I love you, little brother," the Prussian then whispered, very softly, very carefully. "I know it may not always seem like it, but I'll always have your back, all right? You can always count on me. I'm still capable of more than you might think, no matter how sick I may get."  
Prussia then glanced at Holy Rome, who was watching with a warm smile. The empire had always been there for Prussia, even when he was hours away from death. The last thing he had ever said to Prussia in life was advice, wisdom, life lessons. If Prussia was to decline like Holy Rome had, he wanted to do the same for his own little brother. Whatever happened, he wanted to help Germany as much as he could in the time he had left. Whether that time was long or short, he didn't know, and he didn't want to know.  
He just wanted to make the most of his time left with Germany, teach him all that he knew, help him become more confident in his position as a nation, a confidence he had lost over the course of the war.  
He had created Germany, and now he wanted to be the one to help build him back up after the onslaught that had been the Second World War. Maybe Prussia wasn't the most healthy of the two, but he was still older and more experienced. Prussia's damage from the war had not been from the war itself, but from his months of imprisonment. Germany truly was scarred by the war, by the hatred he got from other nations in response to it. It would take time for the young nation to recover from this, no matter how well he could pretend that he was fine.  
Thinking about this, Prussia cracked a small grin as he sat down on the edge of his own bed. Germany was so much like himself in that respect. Which also meant that Prussia had more experience with feeling like Germany now did.  
"And I'll help you with that," he whispered as he lay down and closed his eyes. "I'd help you even if it was with my last breath, little brother. Stop being so worried all the time. That's my job." He yawned and turned onto his other side then, finishing under his breath: "Just… let me take care of _you_ again."

He wasn't incapable of being the brother Germany deserved. He just needed to be given the chance. Germany gave him that chance a bit more often again now, but not nearly enough.  
"I love you, little brother… Let me be there for you."

* * *

 **So yeah, Prussia got a chance to show off his awesome skills that he hasn't had to use for a couple centuries. I can't imagine Germany having seen his big bro like he did during their little escape from society before then.  
Or I must have missed something in my own writing, I don't know...  
**

 **Random info time! I've been listening to Breaking Benjaming kind of non-stop while writing lately, and I swear to Holy Rome, many of their songs depict Prussia in different stages of his life perfectly. Many also have sections that fit Germany to perfection, once or two that are 100% Germany.  
In fact, just for fun, I'm going to write down some lyrics from their songs in chronological order of Prussia's life, to see how far I can come.  
Heh. Yeah.  
If you know and like Breaking Benjamin, I'd say... listen to Until The End, What Lies Beneath, Anthem of The Angels, I Will Not Bow and So Cold. They're the ones that fit Prussia and Germany most, in my opinion.**

 **Okay, end of randomness.**

 **Lastly, I just want to give a warning for the next chapter. Because this chapter was all you'll get on 1946. So yeah, next chapter is... you know.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	37. Chapter 37

**Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and/or followed so far! You're all awesome!**

 **There's a slight(?) historical inconsistency in this chapter that's been pointed out to me. I didn't see how it would work any other way, sorry.**

 **Uhm... I think I should just apologise for this chapter. But it had to happen sometime, right?** **At least it's not the end of the story. Imagine how depressing that would be!**

 **So... On with the chapter, I guess?**

* * *

In February 1947, Prussia and Germany were called to a meeting of the Allied Control Council. The Allies were going to pass another one of their laws, and the two German brothers needed to be present for it, they said.  
Prussia and Germany were brought to an empty room as they waited, with a couch to sit on and three humans standing guard. No one said anything to them, and even when they asked what was going on, why they hadn't been told what all this was for yet, their questions were met with silence.  
At least an hour must have passed before someone else came in, also a human, and the two nations were told to get up and come with them. Confused, they both obediently did as they were told, and much to their surprise, they both had their hands cuffed behind their back before they were allowed to leave the room.  
"W-what's this about?" Germany demanded a little angrily, but mostly confused and afraid. "We're not going to do anything, those cuffs aren't necessary!"  
The humans didn't respond at first, until one of them sighed. "It's for safety reasons," he said calmly. "That's all I can tell you."  
Prussia remained quiet, but he did narrow his eyes at that comment. _All you can tell us?_ he wondered. _Because you don't want to tell us, aren't allowed to tell us, or don't you know why?_ Whatever this was, he didn't like it. He glanced at Germany for a moment, who was staring at the humans anxiously. When the younger nation looked at his brother briefly, Prussia flashed him a reassuring smile.  
This building was the headquarters of the Allied Control Council these days, but had once been home to the highest state court of Prussia, so the Free State knew the building well. The familiar hallways they were led through eased his nerves a little, but really only a little bit. His heart was pounding hard against his ribs, and he had to focus to breathe properly. _In and out,_ he told himself calmly. _Just in and out, slowly, deeply. Keep breathing._ He looked to his side for a moment, where he knew Brandenburg and Holy Rome were walking with them, but they both only glanced at him, blue eyes shimmering with emotion.  
Their silence unnerved Prussia, and he couldn't look at them long. What was going on here? Did they even know, or were they as clueless as he was?

They were brought to the main hall of the building, and to Prussia's surprise, all the main Allied nations were present, along with humans. America sat beside a human, and as did Russia and France. The United Kingdom were there with just one human, but all four nations were present, even Northern Ireland. The young boy sat close to Wales, looking nervous and fidgety.  
Prussia scanned the nations' expressions, hoping to find a clue as to what was going on that way; Scotland's expression was grim, and none of the others looked too happy, either. What was this?  
Germany and Prussia were brought to a halt somewhere in the middle of the room, facing the other nations and the humans. The four humans who had escorted them stayed behind the two brothers, close enough to still feel like they were guarding them. Or maybe guarding the others against them? But why?  
Suddenly, America got up, looking very uneasy and a little pale. He stepped forward with a paper in his hands. Once facing the two Germans, he took a deep breath. "Germany and Free State Prussia," he began in a clear, mostly steady voice; only the slightest shiver of nerves could be heard as he spoke. "You were brought here today to witness the passing of law number 46 of the Allied Control Council and to further discuss the occupation of the German state hereafter."  
Prussia looked to his left as he listened. Germany was trembling ever so lightly. Quietly, Prussia drew his younger brother's attention, trying to look confident and composed. "It'll be all right, Ludwig," he whispered to the young nation. "They've done this sort of thing before and it always turned out all right. Okay? Today won't be any different."  
Germany didn't look convinced, but he gave a short nod before looking back up at America.  
The American had just finished reading the names of the people who had signed this law, whom Prussia figured were the humans sitting there, aside from the nations of course. He paused for a moment, and it looked to Prussia like the younger nation sighed, but he wasn't sure.  
Northern Ireland shrunk back a little, leaning in closer to Wales. Scotland clenched his hands into fists, looking enraged and helpless at the same time. France sighed and closed his eyes.  
America then took another deep breath as if to calm himself, then went on: "The Allied Control Council hereby declares that from this day, February 25 1947, onward, the Prussian state, which from early days has been a bearer of militarism and reaction in Germany, has _de facto_ ceased to exist."  
In an instant, it was as if the entire world vanished around Prussia. The ground gave way under his feet and he fell into an endlessly deep abyss, cold and dark and daunting. His heart seemed to stop beating, his breath caught in his throat. The albino felt his legs shaking a little and he could only just about prevent himself from stumbling.  
Ceased to exist? What did that mean? Did they think he'd died? But he was standing right in front of them! He hadn't _ceased to exist,_ he was still alive and breathing and _standing right there!_ He didn't comprehend it at all.  
America went on speaking, clearly reluctantly so, but to Prussia his voice sounded far away, vague, strangely echoing. It was as if he heard the younger nation from under water, the sound of his voice distorted before it reached Prussia's ears.  
"Guided by the interests of preservation of peace," the young nation forced himself to say, "and security of peoples and with the desire to assure further reconstruction of the political life of Germany on a democratic basis, the Control Council enacts as follows."  
From there on, Prussia could barely process the words anymore. He struggled to follow what America said as his mind spun and his heart pounded in his throat. He could just about understand that he would lose his government entirely, all his remaining land. The entire Prussian State was wiped from existence.  
 _He_ was wiped from existence.  
It felt like centuries passed by in the seconds it took before America was finished, and after that a heavy silence fell in the hall, suffocating Prussia. Or was he even still Prussia? If Prussia didn't exist anymore, what was he then? Was he just Gilbert now? Or not even that?  
It felt as if a shockwave went through the albino when he heard Germany's voice. His little brother was staring at the nations and humans wide-eyed, pale as a ghost. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered weakly, "but I… I'm afraid I don't quite understand. Prussia is…"  
The man beside Russia narrowed his eyes, seemingly annoyed with Germany's nervous stammering. "It means, young man," he said rather coldly, "that mister Beilschmidt is no longer a nation. He is not to be referred to as Prussia anymore by you, or anyone."  
 _Mister Beilschmidt._ Those two simple words hit him like a punch to the gut. Prussia, or whatever he was supposed to be now, felt a shiver go down his spine. He had never disliked his chosen human name, but right now it sounded like a death sentence to him. His stomach twisted at the mere idea.  
 _No, please, not yet…!  
_ He could only stand there as Germany flinched, his eyes becoming glassy with tears at those words. The young nation whipped around to stare at his brother, wide-eyed and terrified and confused, trembling violently. Then he tensed up and turned back to the Allies.  
It almost looked as if something exploded in Germany at that moment, and he started yelling at the other nations. "NO!" he burst out, taking a step forward. "No, you… You can't…" He tried to get to Prussia then, but he was quickly restrained by two of the humans who had escorted them earlier, keeping him in place. The young nation's face was flushed, his eyes shimmering with tears and his expression contorted in panic and fear and grief as he screamed: " _YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"_ He struggled fiercely against the humans restraining him, but when a third joined in to keep him under control, he didn't stand a chance anymore.  
Looking at it, Prussia suddenly wasn't in the Kammergericht building anymore, but rather in a large hall much like this one, only different. The walls were worn and old, the architecture not of this age. There were some humans around him, but mostly nations, all seated on wooden benches. His cousins, his siblings, some nations from outside the family but very few.  
A young blond boy dressed in black in front of him, his face pale and gaunt as he stared at him with a sad blue gaze. He had felt almost exactly like he did now on that day. Except he had been the one struggling and screaming like that, held back by Hesse and Hanover, who had tried desperately to get him to calm down. But he had been distraught, and he had been terrified, and all he had wanted to do was to go to his big brother and hold him and hear him say that it wasn't so, that he hadn't just been abolished, that it was all just a bad dream.  
 _Just a bad dream…_  
"Brother!" suddenly came Germany's voice from beside him, desperate, frightened. His little brother sounded choked up, and that one word had come out as much as a sob as it had a word. " _Gilbert!_ "  
Hearing Germany call out to him like that, Prussia's mind stopped its incessant spinning just for a moment. Right. This wasn't the year 1806 and this wasn't the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire.  
This was 25 February 1947, and it was _his_ dissolution.  
Dizzy, Prussia turned to look at his little brother. Germany's face was full of anguish, his eyes flooding with tears. Prussia hadn't seen him look this much like a frightened child since the end of the war, or even longer than that. _My little brother._ Without even understanding why, he forced himself to grin at him. "It's okay, Ludwig," he choked out, barely able to speak but forcing himself to do so. "It's okay. Your brother is too awesome to… to disappear. Y-you know that…! It will be all right… Completely all right…"  
Germany flinched at his words as if they were a hard slap in the face, and tears that had been in the corners of his eyes now trailed down his cheeks. He gritted his teeth. "This isn't the time for your _jokes_ , Gilbert!" he yelled, enraged and distressed. "Stop it with your 'awesome' for once! They just… _They just abolished you!_ "  
Numbly, Prussia gave a short nod. "I know…. I know that…" He couldn't get his voice above a whisper, and it was a hoarse one at that. The reality of this was sinking in now, and his heart sank along with it. He felt like he could crumble at any moment, as if he was made of sand and the slightest breeze would blow him away. But he had to comfort his little brother somehow, and maybe reassure himself in the process. "It will be all right," he managed to choke out softly. "I… I know it will…"  
Looking back down at the floor, he took a deep, shaky breath. Why was this happening? What had he done to deserve this? What were their reasons for abolishing him? He knew it had been mentioned, but he couldn't recall it right now, didn't understand. Why? _Why?_  
Suddenly, England jumped to his feet, staring at the two German brothers with a look of pity and distress in his emerald eyes. "H-however-!" he began almost nervously, drawing everyone's attention. He was looking directly at Prussia as he spoke. "Gilbert Beilschmidt will, although only for some time, be allowed to live on as a nation."  
Hope sparked in Prussia's chest when he heard these words, but it was only a tiny flicker of light in a dark void.  
England went on. "Though no longer as Prussia, you shall retain your status as a nation for a little while yet," the older nation told him with a quivering voice. "From now on, you shall represent and be known as East Germany."  
East… Germany…?  
East Germany. So that was who he was supposed to be now? But why? Why couldn't he just be Prussia? He always had been Prussia. He _wanted_ to be Prussia. So why couldn't he?  
Militarism. That's it. Their reason. He remembered now. They wanted to protect democracy and stimulate democracy within Germany. Militarism wasn't part of that. _But I used to be very definition of democracy within the Weimar Republic!_ he thought angrily, desperately. _It was when the Prussian Coup happened and they took my government from me that I lost all that!_  
He felt his muscles tighten in both terror and rage. "F-for my _militarism?!_ " he bellowed at the other nations. "What a stupid reason to just _abolish me!_ If it was truly for the wars I fought that I am no longer allowed to exist, then _all of you_ should be abolished, too!" He couldn't believe this. What hypocrisy. What nonsense. Stupid, all of it.  
France sighed, looking as uncomfortable with the situation as anyone else. "It's not like that, _mon ami_."  
 _Don't call me your friend, you vile son of bitch._  
"We have all fought wars, that cannot be denied," France went on calmly. "But you are still a different case than any of us: you were created as an army with a nation, not a nation with an army. You were born for war, and we cannot allow that any longer."  
 _Dammit, don't lie to me!_ "You can't just do this!" the albino then yelled. "I'm _Prussia!_ Nothing else!" He struggled to gulp in air for a moment, but then went on, terrified. "I've lived for more than 750 years now," he said, his voice a little softer as fear and grief overwhelmed him. "In all my years, I've never been anything other than Prussia. I may be German, but I'm not _Germany_ , and certainly not _East Germany!_ W-what is this… This sick joke…"  
"It's not a joke, Gilbert." The voice that suddenly said those words knocked the breath out of the Free State. Ex-Free State. He stared up at Scotland with wide red eyes.  
His friend looked at him sadly and sighed. "I wish it was, but it isn't. You're East Germany now, and you'll be under military occupation from the Soviet Union." He blinked once, his blue gaze apologetic. "I'm sorry, Gilbert," he said softly. "But that's how it is."  
For some reason, hearing Scotland say it also made it even more real for him. He wasn't Prussia anymore. East Germany sighed then, feeling as if he had just died and he was just a ghost now.  
Nothing but a ghost of what he used to be.  
Russia then cleared his throat and got to his feet. "Speaking of which," he said eerily calmly. "I believe it is time we all had a word with our new ter… _temporary_ territories, isn't it?" He stepped down from where he and the other Allies were, looking at East Germany with an even gaze. "East, you'll be coming with me. West can tag along with the others."  
 _East and West,_ East Germany then thought angrily, gritting his teeth and glaring murderously at the nation that was approaching him. _Is that who you want us to be from now on? I've got two words for that, buddy_.  
He bunched his muscles as Russia got closer, shifting ever so slightly to be more balanced. Just a few more steps and he would pay for what he'd just said. Three. East Germany narrowed his eyes. Two. He relaxed his right leg and tightened the muscles in his left further. One.  
 _SCREW THAT!_  
In a flash, East Germany lashed out at Russia, swinging his right leg at him at great speed, his kick aimed at the taller man's stomach. With a bit of luck, he would kick the nation in two.  
But he had not an ounce of luck that day: Russia had seen the attack coming and retaliated with speed to equal East Germany's. In less than a second, he had his hands clenched tightly around the albino's outstretched leg, having caught it mid-air.  
East Germany's heart skipped a beat when he felt those strong hands holding his leg so tightly, and for just a second, he expected to feel his bone snap and crunch between Russia's fingers. But then his right leg was pulled upward, and his left slid from under him. Suddenly there was no ground under his feet anymore, and the world seemed to blur for a moment as he fell backward. Russia released his leg a second later, and the white-haired nation slammed head-first onto the hard, marble floor.  
He lay there, stunned, unable to breathe, staring up at Russia as the man knelt down beside him. His almost violet-blue eyes shone with anger as he met East's gaze. "Hey now," he said softly, "I thought you said we could be friends now? I know that I need to teach each of my friends some _discipline,_ " he added almost menacingly, "but I never once thought your case would be this bad."  
He hauled East up by the collar of his shirt, dragging him to his feet. East was still wheezing and gasping for breath when Russia pulled him along out of the hall. Just before going around the corner of the doorway, East glanced back over his shoulder.  
West was looking at him, wide-eyed and distraught, and his heart ached to be beside his little brother again. Their eyes met for a moment.  
Then West vanished from sight.

* * *

Russia brought him to an office somewhere down the hallway, telling East to sit down. The nation sighed and quietly did as he was told. He still felt dizzy after everything that had just happened, and his head was still pounding from its collision with the floor earlier. Silently he watched as Russia lit the fireplace that was in the office and, when cinders nearly fell onto the carpet, the tall nation pushed the burning wood further back with a fireplace poker. He then just dropped it and left one end of it in the fire. Couldn't be bothered to hang it back up, apparently.  
Calmly, Russia turned to East then, who refused to meet his gaze. "I must tell you about what will happen from now on," he began, unfazed by the other nation ignoring him. "First, though, I must apologise for what happened earlier. I know we only just became friends, but I honestly liked Prussia."  
 _We never were friends,_ East thought grimly, but he decided it best to keep his mouth shut. _And don't talk about me with my old name as if I'm dead. I'm still me, dammit._ He felt sick, and somewhere deep inside he was still clinging to the hope that he was having a terrifying nightmare, nothing more. He knew it wasn't like that, though, and he knew that today was the end. Not the end of his life, but it was the end of Prussia. He had officially lost his identity now. He tried to think of himself with his new name, but it felt unreal to him.  
Russia went on as calmly as before. "As with all nations under the Soviet Union's influence," he began explaining, "you will come with me to Moscow for some time. I don't know how long you will have to stay with us there, but I _can_ tell you what will be expected of you once we get there."  
They needed him to do things, now, too? What was he, Russia's new lackey? For some reason, East thought it quite possible that he would be.  
"You will need to work on your Russian, for one," Russia went on. "You will be required to do some work, although that won't have to be right away if circumstances don't allow it."  
And that meant…? Oh, right. East more likely than not had the sickness of a lifetime ahead of him after today. How wonderful that would be. He was already looking forward to it.  
Russia still had more to tell him. "In your particular case," he then said, "there's one more thing you'll need to learn other than Russian: it won't be tolerated if you refer to your old land as yours like you've done before. I will provide you with a list of alterations we've made, names we've changed, and you would be doing yourself a favour if you learnt them as soon as possible and refrained from using any other names. Königsberg is no more, to name an example. It's Kaliningrad now, and you should realise that."  
These last sentences were a step too far for East Germany. He looked up at Russia, narrowing his red eyes in anger. "That city has always been Königsberg," he said in a soft, sharp voice edged with fury. "It will always _be_ Königsberg, no matter how little of it remains. You'd have to erase it from the face of the Earth entirely if you ever wanted to change that. It's _Königsberg_ and it is a _Prussian_ city. It's _my city._ " As if it wasn't bad enough that the Russians had destroyed his beautiful capital and then taken it from him, now they also wanted to change its name? It was as if they wanted to erase any memory of the glory that had once been Königsberg with all that they were doing. But they would never succeed.  
Russia stared at the older nation quietly for a moment, then sighed deeply and frowned. "That attitude won't do, East," he warned the albino. "Over here you may get away with it, but once we're in Moscow, such behaviour will be punished, and you _really_ don't want that."  
"Oh, really?" East challenged, getting to his feet. "And what will you do that hasn't already been done to me? What do you expect to do to me that I have not already proven I can handle? Especially considering you people also want me fit to work, _punishing me_ won't be an easy task."  
Russia shook his head. "Don't, East. You should be grateful that I'm even giving you this warning. Not everyone gets that luxury."  
East Germany gritted his teeth and glared at the man, hatred for him flaring up inside him like fire. He thrust his face forward, almost nose-to-nose with Russia as he stared him straight in the eyes with a fiery red gaze. " _Luxury?_ " he echoed disbelievingly, enraged. "Explain to me how this is _luxury_ , you piece of shit, before I seriously blow a fuse." He huffed then, tilting his head a little. "Oh, never mind. It's too late for that now." He knocked himself against Russia, giving him a fierce shove without using his arms, which were still bound behind his back. Now he understood why they had done that.  
Russia stumbled backward, but quickly regained his balance. By now he looked about as angry as East Germany felt. East didn't give a damn. "I'll go with you to Moscow," the albino said in a low sneer. "I'll learn your stupid language and I'll do those goddamn chores you've got for me. But if I'll be mistreated in any way, Russia, you can expect tenfold suffering in return. _Punish me_ for honouring my own history in any way, and I promise, _I will make your life a living hell._ "  
Russia scowled, then turned away, looking at the fireplace for a moment, the flickering light of the dancing flames. "It's not me you should be worried about," he told East, clearly finding it difficult to stay calm. "If you're planning to make a racket and start a little rebellion, trust me, yours is the only life you'll be making more difficult."  
East was silent now, his red gaze fixed on Russia as the taller man turned back to look at him. "There's one more thing that is required of you _before_ we head to Moscow soon," he said, and East thought he could hear the slightest trace of a shiver in the nation's voice. Russia inspected him in silence for a moment, then sighed deeply, his anger gone entirely. "Be still for a moment, please."  
Just hearing those words, East took a step back, but he wasn't quick enough: Russia grabbed him by his shirt in both hands, holding him to tightly that he could barely move. When East gave up trying to free himself, fed up and also somewhat curious, if he had to be fully honest, Russia suddenly started unbuttoning the albino's shirt. When the other nation started doing this, East tried to shrug him off, but Russia's only response was to correct him with a hard tug and an angry nudge before continuing on again. Once East's shirt was opened up completely, exposing his pale, scarred skin underneath, Russia blinked almost sadly and turned away with another sigh.  
The Russian went back to the fireplace, poking at the wood again to kindle the flames, which had grown weaker during the time the two nations had spent talking. As he was doing so, he spoke to East, his voice soft and wavering a little. "I don't like this any more than you do, you must know that," he said tentatively. "I'm following orders, East. You, more than anyone, should know what that is like. Sometimes we're left with no choice." He glanced at the albino sideways, and even in the dim light, East could see many emotions in his eyes, too many to count in that brief moment. "I need you to hold still again, all right? This won't be long, especially if you won't struggle."  
…What? East felt his heart begin to pound wildly against his ribs again, and he took a slow, frightened step back. Russia gave the burning wood another poke, one that actually wasn't necessary anymore, then he suddenly pulled the fire iron out of the flames and spun around to face East Germany. The end of the metal poker he was holding glowed white with heat.  
In a single heartbeat, East Germany understood what was going to happen. In the same instant, Russia lifted the object and thrust it forward. East stumbled back, but not quick enough. The glowing end of the poker collided with his bared chest before he could move away, scorching his skin. He heard the skin on his chest sizzle at the sudden heat, the scent of molten, burnt flesh hitting his nose.  
More than any of that, though, he felt agony explode in his chest, and he shrieked in pain.

* * *

West Germany was silent and motionless as the Allies explained to him what was going to happen from now on. He tried to take in as much information as he could, but he only got the basics of it: he was West Germany now, his brother was East, and they would both be under military occupation. Because the western half of the nation was under shared occupation from the United Kingdom, the United States and France, they would take turns doing inspections. They would help him find a house in West Berlin as soon as possible so that he could leave the Cecilienhof after living there for well over a year. Once he had a house, he could mostly live on his own and move freely, although the 'inspections' of the Allied nations would be more frequent at the beginning of all this. Once things had settled down West had adapted to his new way of life, they would leave him alone more and more often.  
Much more than that, he couldn't process anymore. He heard the words, but their meaning was lost on him. His mind was with that afternoon, his thoughts with his brother. He knew what had happened and he knew what the implications of it were, but he didn't understand, couldn't grasp the full meaning of it quite yet.  
There were so many thoughts rushing through his head now, making him dizzy. Would Prussia -no, East Germany now- even survive this? Was his brother hearing the same thing from Russia as he was hearing from the western Allies, or would they receive entirely different treatment? That might be difficult to work around once they were home again.  
How would the others react once they heard this? Hungary would likely be distraught. If she would show that in anger or in sadness or both, West wasn't sure yet. Austria would no doubt have trouble coming to terms with this news, too, but he might actually still be capable of hiding his emotions like he so often did. And as for the Benelux and Switzerland and Liechtenstein… Would they even care? East and West had never been particularly close with Switzerland and Liechtenstein, and their three cousins in the Benelux still refused to talk to them much. They'd come together and sat and talked _once_ since the end of the war, and West hadn't felt like the bitterness the three nations felt for their German cousins had diminished even a little. Would today be different? Would they care about this, or would their anger prevent them from feeling any grief at all?  
The young nation had been pondering like that for what felt like an eternity by the time he heard a soft sigh not far away from him. "Guys," came America's voice, flat and sounding tired. "I doubt he's listening anymore. Let's call it quits for tonight: what good does it do if he won't remember a word of what we've said?"  
There was a soft mumble of agreement from someone else, followed by silence. West still felt frozen to the core and was lost in thought, until he heard Wales's voice. "Prussia isn't even a thousand years old?" the old nation wondered out loud. "I thought he was almost our age."  
"As did I," England replied softly, sounding a little confused and also tired after the events of that day. "Younger than us, but not _that_ much."  
Without even realising it himself, West then spoke up, his voice hoarse and weak. "He's often thought to be older than he is," he mumbled, half to himself, absent-minded even as he talked to the others. "Because of his military skills. His knowledge of how nations' bodies work, which he'd figured out at a young age… France was right," he added, looking at the old kingdom as he said this. "He _was_ born from an army. He's not the original Prussia, but instead he was born from the Teutonic Knights in the twelfth century." He sighed, staring down at the floor again like he had done earlier, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened that day. No, trying to understand it in the first place. Coming to terms with it might take him a lifetime.  
Suddenly there was a loud noise alerting him, a blood-chilling shriek, and West sat rigid in an instant. His heart beat wild with panic as he jumped to his feet. The other nations looked startled as well, wondering what was going on.  
West Germany didn't know what had happened either, but he had figured one thing out before they seemed to have, and he made a dash for the door. After taking a few steps, he was stopped by France and America, but he fought and struggled to free himself. "That… That was Gilbert!" he burst out, terrified and sick with worry for East. "That was _my brother!_ "  
Barely a second later, France and America let him go, and he nearly stumbled when they did so. Then he dashed out of the door and into the hallway, making a quick turn to the right where he knew his brother would be in an office with Russia, right next to where he and the others had been.  
The young nation slammed the door open and ran inside, then froze.

His brother was on his knees, curled around himself. His shirt hung loose, its buttons opened for some reason. East Germany was wheezing as he stared up at Russia.  
"You goddamn son of a bitch," the injured nation brought out weakly.  
In response, Russia scowled and muttered something in Russian. Then, when East tried to say something else, he lashed out with his foot, kicking the smaller nation hard against the side of his head. East Germany was flung against the wall with the force of it, where he fell limply to the floor and lay motionless afterward.  
In an instant, Scotland dashed past the petrified West, cursing loudly at Russia and tackling the younger nation to the ground, where he proceeded to punch the man in the face until America, just seconds later, hastily pulled him back and restrained him. America cursed at the Russian as much as Scotland had, though, completely enraged and shocked.  
West took a moment longer to be able to move again, but then he quickly went to East's side and crashed onto his knees beside the motionless nation. "Gilbert!" he tried to rouse his brother. "Gilbert, please!" But there came no response. He quickly checked and found that East was still breathing, but he'd lost consciousness. West had to fight back a sob. "C-come on, brother…! Wake up, _please_ , wake up!"  
By then, France had knelt down beside him, carefully inspecting the albino nation. He very gently rolled the unconscious man onto his back, exposing his chest and the gruesome wound over his heart: dark red, dark brown and even black mingled in what looked like molten flesh. A terrible stench rose from the wound, reminding West of meat that was left on the stove too long and got burnt.  
The most disgusting and nerve-wrecking part of the injury was that West recognised shapes in it: the outlines of a circle, a sickle and a hammer crossing each other inside that circle, a star in the half-circle created by the sickle.  
The symbol of the Soviet Union.  
West's stomach seemed to do a somersault just looking at it, and for a second he feared he would throw up. But then France sighed beside him, which pulled the younger nation's attention away from that gruesome burn. "He needs help," the old kingdom stated for the others to hear. "If not for the burn, then for his head, but he needs help."  
Scotland, seemingly having calmed down just enough to ignore Russia, suddenly appeared behind France and West. "Then stop just saying so," he snapped at France, bending down. He glared at the blond kingdom with an ice-cold gaze as he did so. "For once, why don't you actually _do something?_ " But he didn't give France the chance to respond, sliding his arms under East's legs and shoulders, picking his limp body up off the floor. Carrying the unconscious nation in his arms, he hastily left the room without another word.  
Northern Ireland, sounding terrified after what he had just witnessed, squeaked fearfully that he would help his brother tend to East Germany, then quickly ran after the Scot.  
West wanted to go with them, but his legs felt shaky and weak and wouldn't even move so that he could stand up. He just sat there, on his knees, shivering with distress and fear for his elder brother. His breathing was shallow with panic, and he fought to control at least that. He just told himself that East was in good hands: Scotland was a good man and cared a lot about East Germany, and considering he was near-ancient, he undoubtedly had experience tending to injuries even like this one. East would be perfectly fine, provided he was given the chance to rest and recover.  
Suddenly there was a crash behind him, followed by a grunt, and he whipped around to see what had happened; Wales, who had been walking whenever he hadn't been seated that day, albeit still depending on canes to do so and very slow, had just collapsed to the floor. He must have been walking and standing for too long, and his weakened knees had just given out.  
The principality was already scrambling back to his feet, getting support from England, but his legs were still trembling violently. Seeing this, France got up and walked away from where he had been beside West Germany. With just three steps, he stood by Wales's side, and he lifted the other nation without warning. Wales looked startled, but when France then placed him in a chair on the other side of the room, he just looked up at the kingdom with a grateful smile, mumbling his thanks.  
West scowled as he watched this, the sight of it tearing at his heart. So France cared enough to immediately jump to Wales's aid when the man had only strained his still-weak legs too much, but he was fine with watching East Germany be branded then kicked into a wall and doing _nothing_ about it? But then, it wasn't only France: England hadn't done anything yet, America had only stopped Scotland from punching the living daylight out of Russia and then berated the Russian himself. Wales not doing anything to help East earlier was something he could forgive, since the old nation clearly wasn't in a state where he could have done anything worthwhile.  
Only Scotland seemed to give a damn. Northern Ireland had only gone with him because he had been scared, West was certain of it. He couldn't blame the boy for that, though: the child was far too young to witness what he had seen today.  
But then France appeared at West's side, looking down at the young nation with a worried shimmer in his blue eyes. "Are you all right, West?" he asked softly, obviously trying to be comforting. But why would he? France was a piece of shit who had done nothing but hate West and East for as long as West could remember. Why would he suddenly try to be friendly, show sympathy, act like he _cared_?  
Rather than being of any comfort to the shaken young nation, his sudden display of sympathy angered West. His muscles tightened with fury, but he tried to keep himself composed even now. He just stared at the older nation with hatred evident in every inch of his expression, and France soon backed off, a little taken aback but not really surprised at the same time.  
For just a few seconds, they left West alone, but then America approached him carefully. "Hey, uh, West…" he began carefully. "I'm… I'm so sorry about what happened." He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "If any of us had known that Russia would…" He took a deep breath then. Quietly he took a key out of his pocket and opened the cuffs that were still around West's wrists, apologising for leaving them on for so long. Then he looked at the younger nation again, trying to get him to look back at him. West refused to meet his gaze, though, and America just went on tentatively: "I… I swear, I'm _so_ sorry about all of this. Your brother… He's a good man at heart. I've spent enough time with him to know that for a fact. He doesn't deserve any of this, and neither do you. But it… All of this is out of our hands." He sounded genuinely regretful of that. "If we could change any of this, each of us would have done so in a heartbeat, I promise you. But we can't." He fell silent for a moment, then finished in a soft whisper: "I can only imagine what you, both of you, must be feeling now…"  
West blinked. "You can't." Clenching his jaws, he finally turned to look at America, staring him straight in the eyes. "You have no idea," he went on, his voice hoarse and raw with emotion. " _None of you_ have any idea what this is like, what you've done to us both." In a single movement, he pushed himself to his feet, staring at the other nations in rage and misery. "Do you even realise what we've already lost?" he asked them, feeling his heart pounding in his throat as he spoke. "Or have you all forgotten them so quickly? Gilbert is all I have, a-and I'm all that he has left. Nearly our _entire family_ has been slaughtered, and now you're taking Gilbert, too?"  
How could anyone be so cruel? How could they be so short-sighted that they didn't see how much misery they caused the two brothers in a single day?  
Gritting his teeth, West Germany turned away, making his way to the door. He'd taken only a few steps before he halted, and without looking at anybody grumbled: "Now, I'm going to see my brother, and if you'd take some advice from me… _Don't try to stop me._ That wouldn't end well for anyone." Having said that, he quickly walked out of the room.

West Germany stared straight ahead as he made his way through the hallway, but when he spotted Scotland coming around the corner at the end the corridor, he looked at the old kingdom instead.  
Scotland was carrying Northern Ireland, who was leaning against his big brother's shoulder sleepily. When the Scot also saw West, he quickened his pace a little to reach him. The look in his pale blue eyes was gentle and calm when he stood in front of the younger nation. "End of the hall," he said, knowing in an instant what West was doing there. "Then go left. Second door on the right. He came to for a moment, but he's sleeping now." He flashed the German nation a tiny, quick smile. "Given some rest, he'll be just fine, I promise you. The burn will be a scar, but his head… He'll have a nasty bump, mind you, but that should be all."  
West Germany sighed in relief, then nodded slowly. "Thank you, Scotland."  
Neither nation said anything else before Scotland went back to the other nations and West went on to see his brother. The room Scotland had brought East to was a small first-aid room in the building, and the albino simply lay on the table there for the lack of something better. The Scot had wrapped cool, damp bandages around the injured nation's chest, and West was glad that the brand his brother had received that night was hidden now. There was some blood in his hair, but not much, and when West gave it a quick check, he noticed that the small cut on East's head, undoubtedly left by his collision with the wall, had already closed. It had been very small, thankfully, and West figured the blood was only so visible because of East's white hair.  
After making sure his brother was all right, West could only sigh as he looked down at the nation. In an instant he felt choked up again, but he tried hard to bite back his emotions. But then East stirred and opened his eyes. His red gaze softened instantly when he saw his little brother standing over him. Wordlessly, he sat up and swung his arms around the younger nation.  
West couldn't do anything but return the embrace, holding his brother tightly. He couldn't speak, could barely even think. The only noise that eventually came from him was that of soft crying.

* * *

East and West were allowed to spend the night in the same room, as they were now used to after having had to share a room for almost two years. But the next morning they were woken quite early.  
The other nations were there when they had a quick breakfast. After that, all of them went to the Cecilienhof together, where East was going to have to pack his things.  
They then had lunch together, just a quick one, like their breakfast had been. They were barely even finished with that when the Allies came in again.  
"East," Russia called to the newly renamed nation calmly. "It's time to go, or the plane will leave without us. I'd rather not have to go by train, and I think you would agree if you see why."  
Those words sent a shockwave through West Germany, and the younger of the two brothers stiffened in a heartbeat. "What?" he brought out feebly. "Now? B-but… A-all we've done today is have two quick meals and pack his stuff!" His blood growing cold with dread, he looked back at his brother: East sat silently, staring down, and he sighed once. "We haven't even… had a chance to say goodbye yet…" West finished, already getting choked up again.  
He was going to lose his brother. Just minutes from now, he would _lose him_.  
Russia just sighed at his words. "In that case, you'd better do so quickly. We've got a deadline, and I'm afraid we really can't miss it."  
Suddenly, East Germany stood up, silently walking over to his little brother. He grabbed West firmly by the shoulders and stared him in the eyes. His red gaze was calm, but his eyes were shimmering with tears as he looked at the younger nation. "It's okay, Ludwig," he said in a soft voice. "I'll be fine there. Lizzie is in Moscow now, remember? I won't be alone." With a sigh, the albino wrapped his arms around West in a warm embrace. "And neither will you: Austria is still here, after all. Take care of yourself, little bro, and if you need help with anything, go to Austria."  
Choked up, West hugged his brother as tightly as he could, not willing to ever let go again. "You take care of yourself, too, got it?" he said in a quivering voice, sorrow overwhelming him in that moment. He knew that East could take care of himself all he wanted, it still wouldn't change a thing. How likely was it that they would never get the chance to see one another again? What were the odds that East wasn't going to live to the end of this year?  
Thinking about these things, he whimpered and pressed his face into the crook of East's neck. The older nation just gently ran his fingers through his little brother's hair in a comforting gesture, whispering softly to him. "Of course I will," he promised. "Don't worry about me, all right? There's no need. Just look after yourself. Promise me you'll be okay."  
West could only nod, clenching his jaws in an effort to stay quiet. He didn't even care that there were other nations watching; he simply could not suppress his emotions, his intense grief remembering what had happened the day before and thinking about what was going to happen now.  
How could East be so calm over all this? Had he accepted his fate so quickly? The albino simply gave West a soft kiss on the side of his head, and West could feel him smiling as he did so. "I love you, Ludwig," he whispered. "More than anything and anyone. I'm… blessed… to have you as my little brother."  
"I… I love you, too," West managed to choke out, just barely.  
Then, suddenly, Russia spoke again. "Sorry, you two, but that's it. We really need to get going."  
East Germany sighed deeply and let go of West then, but West only felt a jolt of panic when he felt his brother move away. _No…!_  
This was the last time he would see his brother. The last time he would see him alive. The next time he would see his beloved brother would be at the man's funeral. This was their final goodbye.  
All these horrible thoughts rushed through his head as he watched East walk towards Russia, and he stepped forward and reached out to him, hoping to grab his hand, as if he could stop all this from happening if only he managed to touch him one last time.  
But he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, pulling him back in a gentle manner and holding him firmly to stop him from trying again.  
His heart felt like it was ripped to shreds in that instant, and he cried out to his brother, heartbroken. " _Gilbert!_ "  
East Germany just looked at him over his shoulder and smiled, his expression calm and his gaze warm and loving. "It's all right, Ludwig," he assured his little brother. "It won't be forever."  
Then he was taken away by Russia, and the door closed behind them.  
He was alone now.  
 _…It won't be forever._

* * *

 **I so love doing name changes. Mark my words, I'll screw up many times yet and call them Prussia and Germany again. Woopee.**

 **Russia's actions will all be explained soon, I promise!  
Also, did you (those who read CYH) notice the parallell-thingy I did with Holy Rome's dissolution? I hope it was clear enough ^~^'  
**

 **Oh, and another little thingy: I wrote the conversation between Scotland and Prussia/East some 2 years ago, in Trouble, for those who haven't read that yet. If you'd like to read it (but not Trouble entirely): it's in chapter 11**

 **And with that...! I hope you liked the chapter, and thank you for reading!**


	38. Chapter 38

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I'm sorry for the sadness. It may not seem like it, but I promise you, the happiness will return!**

 **I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

It was colder here than it had been in Berlin, that was one thing East Germany noticed almost immediately. If the slippery patches of ice on the pavement were anything to go by, temperatures were still below freezing point here. He shivered as a cold breeze blew past.  
With a sigh, East looked up at Russia, who was walking just in front of him as he led his newly acquired 'friend' to his house. That is, East figured it would be Russia's home they were headed to. Then again, if the other nations under Soviet military occupation were there, too, it might not be. Unless, of course, Russia lived in a mansion, but East couldn't really picture that.  
Another breeze came, the cold seemingly creeping into East's clothes. He tried to smile at Russia then. "Hey, Russia," he began as kindly and casually as he could. "I remember you once telling me that you always carried a spare pair of gloves with you." In fact, the Russian had once again given him those gloves. How incredibly _generous_ of the man. Although, to be fair, East Germany was very grateful for them now.  
Russia glanced at the smaller nation then, and East forced a smile. "Would you happen to have a spare shawl, too, maybe…?" It was worth the try, right?  
But Russia sighed and shook his head. "I've got a few at home, though," he said as he kept walking, not even looking at East Germany as he spoke. "You can have one of those, if you'd like." The tall nation only hummed softly when East mumbled a slightly disappointed thanks, but when the albino then asked if, just for the last stretch, he could borrow the one Russia was wearing, the Russian stiffened a little. "No," he replied bluntly. "I'm not taking this off. It's not much farther now, anyway, you'll make it." With a sideward glance over his shoulder at East Germany, he added: "Unless you're meaning to tell me you'll freeze to death within the next five minutes?"  
East only sighed and shook his head. _Although I might feel like it,_ he muttered in thought. It was cold enough that breathing was becoming uncomfortable after being outside for a little while. His lungs stung a little with every breath of freezing air he took, and he longed to be inside.  
Maybe Russia had a fireplace? Surely he did, if he had to live in weather like this every single winter. East was already looking forward to lighting one, watching the flames, enjoying the warmth of it in a nice, dimly-lit room and-  
Suddenly his blood ran cold and his stomach twisted. He felt a sting in his chest as if hot needles were piercing his skin. The still relatively fresh burn scar on his chest was actually numb, but sometimes it was as if he could feel the pain he'd felt when the blazing hot metal scorched his skin all over again. East just took a deep breath and tried to push away the memory.  
…Maybe no fireplace as of yet, then.

Russia had been right about it not taking long before they'd reached their destination. East stared at it in astonishment for a moment: it was a large building, clearly with enough space to house all the nations who would be there, although maybe not big enough to give them all some private space, too. There was nothing fancy or luxurious about it, it was fairly simple, but it was _big._  
But then, how many nations would be living there, after all? East hadn't really thought of it in numbers yet. Quite a few, at least, and knowing Russia, more would come in the future.  
Russia didn't waste time standing on ceremony, and just immediately went to the door. He mumbled a bit as he fumbled with the key, though. "Well," he said to East Germany, "here's your home for the next few years."  
 _Years?_ East could only just stop himself from grunting when he heard this word. What had happened to 'months', or had that never been a plan at all? He just followed Russia inside. No matter how unhappy he was about the situation, after all, inside would always be better than having to wait out here.  
Russia went on talking as he closed the door behind them. "Always something going on with so many people living under one roof. Unfortunately, that isn't always a good thing, but…" He looked doubtful for a moment, but then he cracked a little grin. "Well, I'm sure we all need a little more time to learn to live together. Soon enough, we'll all be the best of friends." It sounded to East as if he was trying to convince himself of that.  
Just a few steps further down the hallway, East Germany could hear voices. The first he recognised was that of Lithuania, and Poland's came soon after. There was a female voice, and East hoped it would be Hungary, who had been forced to move here just months ago for reasons he didn't know. But this voice wasn't familiar to him; he'd heard it before, but he couldn't tell who it was immediately. It must be one of Russia's sisters, Belarus or Ukraine.  
Russia led him into another corridor and then into a room. When they opened the door, everyone inside stopped talking and turned to look at them. For a moment, there was only a flash of dismay in most eyes when the nations saw that Russia had returned, but then their gazes fell on East Germany. Estonia's eyes widened in surprise, and as did Bulgaria's and Romania's. Latvia, Lithuania and Poland glared at him when they saw him. Belarus didn't look too impressed with him.  
The young woman sniffed in disdain and looked at her elder brother. "Does he really have to be here, brother?" was the first thing she said, sounding quite unhappy. "I've been looking forward to your return from the moment you left, but _his_ presence ruins it."  
"Stalin wants him here," Russia answered matter-of-factly. "So yes, he really has to be here."  
Poland scowled at this. "Great, sure, bring Prussia into this," he complained with a look of annoyance. "That will really liven up the party we've got going in here."  
East flinched at this. _Prussia_ … Just a few days had passed, and he already missed his old name. He dreaded it even more when Russia grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to his side. "You all need to know one thing," the Russian said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. "This isn't Prussia. The Allied Control Council has officially abolished Prussia a few days ago. Our new friend is now called East Germany. Understood?"  
East looked up for a moment, but soon averted his gaze again. Most stares he got were full of surprise and disbelief, but some, like Poland's, had a spark of satisfaction in them as well. It sickened him to realise that some people had wished this on him, or at least were pleased that it had happened.  
Russia nudged him forward then and sighed. "Show him around, will you? And please assign him a bed, too. Stalin wants to see me, so I won't be back until tonight, perhaps tomorrow." After a brief pause, he added more quietly. "Try to be a little nicer than that, too. The man's been through a lot."  
 _And most of it because of you…_ East kept his mouth shut, but he gritted his teeth in anger. Russia had branded him like an item and kicked him into a wall, then separated him from his brother. He would be as obedient as he had to be, but he wouldn't be quick to forgive any of this.  
Russia left almost immediately, after having to listen to his little sister complain that she didn't want him to leave so soon after having been away for days on end. Much as he disliked Russia, when he left, it felt to East Germany as if he had just lost the only protection he had. Maybe he really had.  
The moment Russia was gone, Poland glared at him and huffed. "So… what?" he sneered. "Prussia was always such a loud, annoying guy. Is East Germany mute or something?"  
Thankfully, Estonia then stepped forward. He and East had never talked much, which meant that they certainly weren't friends, but at least they also weren't enemies. The young nation just went past Poland and Lithuania, who looked most hostile, and walked up to East Germany. "I'll show you to the dormitory," he said flatly. "Pay them no mind; they'll get used to you being here pretty soon, and then they'll get bored of taunting you."  
"You wish!"  
Estonia then just sighed and grabbed East by the arm, pulling him along as he left the room. Once out of earshot, he spoke again. "I don't envy you, you know," he mumbled. "You've got quite a number of enemies here. But then, I suppose you've got friends, too. One, at least." He pointed to the ceiling. "Hungary is upstairs, helping Ukraine with something. Once we've found you a place to sleep, just take a moment to settle in, and I'll tell her you're here, all right?"  
For the first time that day, East managed to smile genuinely. He hadn't expected any kindness at all in this place. "Thanks, Estonia."

The dormitory was a large enough room, with two rows of bunk beds. It was clear at first glance that several were left unused. Immediately, East decided that he would rather have a spot in the corner, at a nice distance from most others, than be right in the middle of people who only hated him.  
"Men sleep here," Estonia explained as he brought East to one of the unused beds. "The women have a smaller room upstairs, bit more private. But then, there's only four of them in here, after all." He huffed for a moment. "Russia's got a private room. Likely because Stalin doesn't want him torn to shreds by us."  
East threw his bag with his clothes onto one of the empty beds, then sat down on the edge of it. In this bedroom, it wasn't as warm as it had been in the other room, and his lungs began to sting again when he breathed in the chilly air. He was silent for a moment, pondering, then looked up at Estonia. "Does it ever get warmer in here…?"  
Estonia blinked. "Yes, but not much. Unfortunately, this was the only room suited as a bedroom for so many people, but it doesn't have the best heating in the house." He glanced around for a moment, slightly uncomfortable, then asked if he could sit beside East. When the older nation nodded, he sat down with a soft sigh. "Maybe I should tell you some of the rules first, before I get Hungary," he said then, half to himself it seemed. "We have meals together, twice a day, always at the same time. If you're late, you miss out, unless someone is generous enough to have saved you something. But I wouldn't expect that if I were you," he added, looking at East again now. "There's a food shortage after the war -hence the lack of lunch in our schedule- and most of the time, if there's anything extra to be gotten because someone missed mealtime, we don't hesitate to take the chance. Sorry about that." He cleared his throat and went on. "We all have tasks in this… household, I guess you can call it. Everyone has paperwork to do, of course, just as you would if you still lived at home. That's paperwork for your own government, but under influence by the Soviet Union, naturally. Then there's the different tasks: the women do most of the housekeeping, cooking, laundry, you name it. We do the other stuff that needs to be done around here. Usually that will be fixing things, tending to the garden, but we do help the girls clean the house -it's an impossible task for just the four of them." He paused for a moment, giving East some time to process all that, before he went on. "I mostly oversee the finances," he explained. "Russia found out that I'm good with numbers, so… Latvia is surprisingly creative and skilled as an engineer, so if there's anything wrong with electricity or gas, it's up to him to take the lead, if not fix it by himself. Everyone gets specific tasks like that based on their individual skills, although that's only a small part of the work you'll do here. Really, paperwork takes up most of your time, generally speaking." He nodded then, showing that he was finished explaining, and gently nudged East Germany when it looked like the albino wasn't listening anymore. "So, is there anything you're good at like that? Maybe we can predict what your job will be in here."  
East shrugged, his mind spinning a little from all that information. "Well, I… To be honest, I'm kind of a jack-of-all-trades, so I don't know…"  
Estonia smirked then. "Jack-of-all-trades, master of none?" he asked, a little amused.  
But East shook his head. "Master of plenty," he replied somewhat stiffly. "I don't want to brag, but I believe that, had I not been raised as a knight and a soldier, I would have been a scholar instead."  
At this, Estonia blinked in surprise. "Scholar? Any specific field, perhaps?" He nibbled his lips for a moment. "I mean, numbers are my strong point, and that got me my job, so who knows…"  
"Well…" East then mumbled. He actually didn't want to have this conversation, or any conversation for that matter, but at the same time it was good to talk to someone who wasn't hostile. Maybe if he did this right, he could gain Estonia's trust completely. One more ally in this hellhole. "I speak many different languages fluently or near-fluently. I guess I'm pretty well self-taught in chemistry and biology, too. I've done my fair share of engineering in the Industrial Revolution…" Suddenly an idea popped into his head, and he almost smiled, a warmth filling his chest at the thought of doing his favourite wartime job again. "I've been practising and developing some useful medical skills since the 18th century. There aren't many injuries I haven't tended to yet, and most I've done were successful in the end."  
Estonia blinked, then suddenly his eyes began shining a little. "That's… pretty great!" he said, sounding almost relieved at this information. "Romania knows a thing or two, also, and Slovakia has been tending to injuries for most of the war. Maybe you could work with them whenever the need arises?"  
The younger nation sounded enthusiastic about it, but East only looked away, feeling uncomfortable. "Slovakia… right…" The young man definitely wouldn't like working with one of the nations who had caused him and his people so much suffering over the course of the war.  
Estonia seemed to realise what he'd said now, too, and hummed softly. Then he just stood up and said that he would go to Hungary now. Before he left, he turned to look at East one more time. "I know many of the others here don't like you much," he said softly, "but don't worry about that. In the end, we're all in the same situation in here and we're all on the same side. When we really need to, we stick together. Okay?"  
East nodded, hoping he could take his word for it.

It wasn't long before Hungary came in, tentatively at first, but when she saw East Germany still sitting on the bed, she made a sudden dash for him. The young woman nearly jumped on him, landing on top of the younger nation and holding him in a tight hug.  
"Gilbert!" she cried out, her voice full of joy and at the same time full of sadness. "Oh, Gil, what are you…? No, no, I know why you're here, stupid thing to… Oh, God, Gil…"  
East sat up then, holding Hungary close as he did so, and he ended up with her on his lap and clinging to him that way. Emotions that he'd supressed for days already threatened to overwhelm him in that moment, and it became even harder to stay composed when Hungary leant back and looked at him, cupping his face in her hands as she stared him straight in the eyes. "E-Estonia told me… Did they really…? A-are you…?"  
Choked up, East could only nod sadly, reality slamming into him with as hard as a sledgehammer once again. He could already felt long-overdue tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, but he bit the inside of his lip stubbornly.  
Hungary's expression changed into one of disbelief and sadness, but most of all of pity, and she sighed softly. "Oh, Gil…" Carefully, she leant forward and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead before she held him in her arms again. "I never imagined that they would… W-what's the fairness in this…?" She stiffened after having said this, and East could feel the anger inside of her just by leaning against her. "T-those goddamn-! It's good for them that I'm in here, because if I saw their faces now, I _swear to God I would-!_ "  
She stopped herself and forced herself to relax seconds later, when East pressed his face against her shoulder, holding her tightly as he began to tremble. It took Hungary just heartbeats to be completely at ease again, slowly and gently running her fingers through his white hair. "It's okay, Gil," she whispered to him. "It's okay. Don't hold it in. There's no need."  
East Germany whimpered then, a quiet sob finding its way over his lips, and then another one, until he found himself crying in Hungary's arms.  
They had abolished him and then separated him from his little brother -why hadn't they just killed him on the spot? That would have been more merciful than this, for sure. Both he and West were now left wondering if they would ever see each other again in this life, with the chances of that actually happening very slim, in all likelihood.  
Holy Rome had died in the same month he had been abolished. Did that mean East would die before the end of March? Or, since he wasn't actually sick yet, unlike Holy Rome had been, maybe he would make it to summer? Whatever the case, East Germany didn't think his life expectancy was very long anymore at this point. Weeks to months, but years would no doubt be too optimistic.  
He just hoped he could live out the rest of his life in relative peace, but in this so-called 'household', he doubted that he would know anything but difficulties for the remainder of his days. More than that, though, he wished he could see his little brother, even if it was just once, before he died.  
But that, too, might never happen.

* * *

West Germany just sighed and glanced around a little as America was pointing things out to him, trying to act cheerful. "And that there's suited as an office, I guess," the older nation said as he walked up to a door and opened it, revealing a small room. "It's a bit on the small side for a bedroom, but… Well, you know, if that's your thing, this could also be used as that. There's, uh… Possibilities, I guess." America's forced enthusiasm seemed to dwindle quickly when West didn't respond much. The American seemed to realise that nothing he could say would improve the younger nation's mood, and he was close to giving up by now.  
Noticing this, West decided to say something now. "I'll… I'll see what I'm going to do…" Well, that didn't come out as planned. But then, he hadn't been able to even pretend that he was doing okay for three weeks now, ever since 25 February.  
America blinked at him, silent for a moment, then sighed. "Well, anyway, this should be a fine home. The best you'll be able to get in Berlin at the moment, I think," he said, walking over to the couch that already stood in the living area of the house and flopping down there.  
The Allies had not only kept their promise of arranging for West to have a home again, they had also pre-furnished the house somewhat. It was just the bare necessities and not exactly of any noteworthy quality, but at least West wouldn't have to stay in the Cecilienhof anymore after two years. The young nation was extremely grateful to them for doing so. The difficult part was expressing that gratitude. He had forgiven each of the nations who had been there that fateful day pretty quickly -except Russia, of course- but even so, he found it hard to make this clear to any of them. His mind was constantly with his brother, and those thoughts only hurt him.  
It was nearly impossible for him to be anything else than in a bad mood, just as it had been all month.  
America stared at West for a moment, then said softly: "Hey, you know… You'll be all right here." His voice sounded completely different from before, calmer, gentler. "I know you've been having a tough time and that it won't be much easier than this for a while yet, but honestly…" The American then tried to smile a little. "You'll make it, West. You'll be fine, and I'm sure that, one of these days, you can see East again, too."  
West shook his head. "I won't," he choked out softly, feeling as if his heart was torn apart all over again as it had been a month ago. "The chance I'll see my brother again are… slim."  
Still, America insisted. "This whole separation business cannot possibly last forever!" he argued, once again trying to sound cheerful.  
But his careful smile was wiped from his face immediately when West answered. "Of course not," the younger nation replied in a croaking whisper. "But Gilbert doesn't _have_ forever. He was already weakening quickly before the dissolution," he added, wondering why he was even saying this. Other nations had no reason to know any of this. Other nations had always been carefully kept in the dark about East Germany's -Prussia's- steady decline as much as possible. Other nations didn't know that East got sick more easily than he used to, that he'd had a stroke. Other nations didn't know that he had already been slowly dying.  
They didn't need to know.  
West just took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he would reveal too much to America. Well, now that he was able to speak, maybe he should take this chance before he would be too rude. "A-anyway…" he said, already struggling again. "T-thanks for… for the house…" He sighed softly. "You really didn't have to…"  
America shook his head and grinned a little. "No, we did have to!" he replied with a shiver of laughter in his voice. "Look, West, you've been through enough, and we all realise that you're not to blame for the war. The least we can do, is make sure you're not homeless for year after year."  
Carefully, West tried to smile at these words, but in the end he only managed a short nod and another soft thanks.

America left soon after that, leaving West Germany to walk around his new house on his own. He liked it, he had to admit: it was small enough to not feel empty if he was on his own (at least, he hoped that would be the case) but large enough that he could have one or two guests stay over. Having Austria visiting him wouldn't be an issue in here. The pre-furnishing was meagre, but sufficient for now, consisting of a couch and a chair in the living room. In the kitchen, he had enough space for cooking, some shelves, a small dinner table with one chair. He had a bathroom with a shower, a bedroom with a single bed and a wardrobe. Everything he needed to live normally, although once he'd saved enough money, he would certainly get some more furniture. It was a little empty, and he had nowhere to store his books or, more importantly, his brother's centuries-old collection of journals.  
 _Maybe I should put those into the office room for now,_ he thought as he walked into said room, the only one still completely empty aside from the basement -which he would in time transform into a guest bedroom, most likely. He had no space here for Austria to sleep if he would visit. _Or a bedroom for Gilbert, if he ever does come back…_  
Once again, West tried to smile a little. He would go back to the Cecilienhof today, and tomorrow, he would move his stuff here. He didn't have much, so it shouldn't take more than a day. Clothes and a load of books. Tomorrow he would finally have a house of his own again, one that he hoped to turn into a home soon.  
This time, he finally managed to smile, even if just a little. The first smile he'd had all month.

* * *

"Do you think you can at least manage to get to the market?"  
"…I don't know…"  
Ukraine looked at East through narrowed eyes, worry glimmering in her irises. They were supposed to get groceries together, but it might turn into a difficult task the way things were going.  
East Germany had thought it had been the cold that had made his lungs sting as he breathed, but even now that it was slightly warmer than when he'd first arrived a month ago, his lungs were still hurting. In fact, the pain had only increased over the weeks. He was short of breath all the time now and had the occasional coughing fit. He had next to no stamina left due to the lack of oxygen he got, and by now, even the short trek to the market felt like an impossible undertaking.  
Ukraine inspected him for a moment longer, then sighed softly. "Let's try to make it to the end of the street, all right?" she suggested. "Maybe the outside air will do you some good. If it doesn't, we'll turn back and I'll see if any of the others can spare some time to help me with the groceries."  
East nodded, trying to take a deep breath. But his breath caught in his throat, and he quickly stifled a cough as he followed Ukraine. It was almost as if there was something clenched around his lungs, the pressure growing with every step he took, suffocating him bit by bit.  
They weren't even halfway through the street when he began wheezing, and he stopped walking, hunched over and gasping for breath. "K-Katyusha…" he gasped, his voice hoarse. "S-sorry… Can't…"  
Ukraine turned around immediately, staring at him for a moment, then walked back to him and hooked her arm with his as support. "Don't apologise," she said in a gentle voice. "Honestly, I should have seen this coming." Slowly they made their way back to the house. As they walked, Ukraine muttered to herself a little. "Honestly, those guys… 'Take East with you,' they said. 'He doesn't have work to do!'" She huffed. "No, and why do you think that is? _What geniuses_."

Once back inside, East Germany leant against the wall for support as he tried to breathe. With shaking hands, the albino nation took off the shawl he'd been wearing, then moved on to his coat. Before he could get started on that, though, he coughed harshly. The noise must have alerted some of the others, because just seconds later, Lithuania and Estonia appeared from further down the hallway.  
Lithuania just scowled when he saw the sick nation. "So you can't even walk outside?" he asked mockingly, although there was a slight sliver of worry in his voice, too. "Mister Awesome really isn't so awesome anymore, is he?"  
Despite how he felt, East glared at the older nation for this. "H-how about you go with so little oxygen f-for a month…?" he croaked angrily, struggling not to cough again. "See if you'll fare any better…!" He broke off in another coughing fit, one that left him entirely breathless, black spots in his vision.  
Ukraine then pushed him back against the wall gently, taking off his coat for him and hanging it up along with the shawl he'd dropped on the floor. "Please don't rile him up, Tolys," she scolded Lithuania gently. "He's not well enough to get into an argument now."  
East choked out a thanks to Ukraine for her help, then tried to straighten himself again and steady himself on his feet. His legs felt wobbly. He could only stumble a few steps before Estonia stepped in to help him to the nearest chair, where East leant back in an effort to find the best position for helping his breathing a little. There was none. Estonia stood in front of him, inspecting the other nation for a moment before he placed his hand on the man's chest.  
With a look of surprise, he then leant down, mumbling a soft apology for being so blunt, and pressed his ear against East's ribcage instead. He listened for a few seconds, then stood up again. "Tolys!" he called to Lithuania. "Please bring Romania, would you? His lungs sound weird."  
Blinking in surprise, East looked up at the younger nation. "Weird how?" he rasped.  
Estonia looked down at him with a look of worry. "Err, well…" he stammered, a little unsure. "I heard, uh… gurgling."  
East closed his eyes with a sigh. _Shit…_ "Fluids," he croaked softly. "I thought that would be the case… An infection in the lungs." He coughed for a moment before he finished: "M-might be pneumonia… I think it is." And he'd had it for so long, too? That wasn't good. Not good at all.

Romania came in minutes later, listening to East's breathing for a short while before coming to the same conclusion. "Of course, I'm not completely certain," he said, scratching the back of his head pensively. "There are numerous things that can cause fluids to build up inside the lungs… But pneumonia does sound likely, I'll give you that." He then placed his hand on the albino's forehead, saying that he looked a little flushed. Then he hummed. "Well, and that temperature you've got suggests the same."  
"So… Now what?" Ukraine asked, sounding worried. "Just plenty of rest, right? Although that doesn't look like it'll be enough at this point…"  
"It won't be," Romania answered immediately, sighing deeply. He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. " _But_ it's the best we can do for him until Russia comes back tonight. Maybe we can convince him to get a doctor."  
East Germany sighed, which ended in more coughing, and sat up straight when that was over. Wheezing, he pushed himself to his feet. He would just go to bed, then. Maybe the others finally realised that he had no other choice but to rest as much as he could. Maybe they would leave him alone now.  
Once he stood up, however, the world spun around him, black blotches appearing in his sight again and growing rapidly. He tried to grab the side of the chair to be more balanced, but he was already too late doing that. The last he knew was that the world seemed to vanish, everything going black.  
He didn't even feel himself hit the floor.

* * *

Hungary had gone to her friend the moment she'd heard what had happened. East hadn't woken up yet since he'd passed out earlier that day, and she had refused to leave his side except for dinner -she figured she wouldn't be of any help to him if she was half-starved. When she came back to him after half an hour, he had still been asleep.  
The young woman sat by his side now, on the edge of his bed, watching his chest rise and fall without any rhythm to it, his breathing laboured. She could hear him wheeze with the effort to breathe even as he slept.  
The door opened behind her, and Hungary looked over her shoulder. To her surprise, it was Russia who came walking in. The tall man's blue eyes widened just a little when he saw the state East was in. "My sister told me what happened," he said calmly as he walked over to the sick nation's bedside. "He hasn't woken up since?"  
Mutely, Hungary shook her head. She grabbed East's hand in hers and gave it a very soft, gentle squeeze. Russia hummed, a look of pity in his eyes as he stared down at the albino. "We all knew he would be sick after the dissolution," he mumbled, half to himself for all Hungary could tell. "We all knew it would be bad. Still, I had hoped… I hoped becoming East Germany instead would lessen it for him." He sighed then. "Now I just hope he'll make it through this."  
Feeling choked up, Hungary shook her head. "He won't," she told the younger nation. "Not if he doesn't get proper treatment. Please, Russia, can't you have a doctor come over to check on him?"  
"Romania and Slovakia have both done a good job with anything medical so far," Russia argued, shaking his head defiantly.  
"Romania knows only the basics," Hungary put in, getting desperate. East needed help. _Her friend_ needed help. Why couldn't Russia see that? "Slovakia has never dealt with _sick_ patients before, only _injured_ ones! Gilbert would most likely know what to do, but he's… He's in no state to even tell any of us what we should do to help him." She sucked in a deep breath, trying to get her racing, pounding heart to slow down a little. "I don't think he's in any state to even think about it. If we want him to get better, we'll need a doctor."  
But yet again, Russia shook his head. There was a flash of anxiety in his eyes when he answered. "I already mentioned this to Stalin two days ago," he said. "I told him that East has been sick ever since he came in. Stalin doesn't want him to see a doctor. He says nations should be strong enough to fight off sickness on their own, and he's right. We always do. Nations do not die of illness, Hungary." He blinked and averted his gaze. "If he doesn't survive this, then he's no nation anymore."  
Before Hungary even had the chance to start begging him to get a doctor -because that would have been her next step- Russia spun around and walked away with quick steps, his shoulders tense and pulled up defensively. He was gone in a few short seconds.  
With a deep sigh, Hungary turned back to look at East Germany. Her dear old friend was struggling so much to breathe, his face red and flushed and his skin clammy with sweat. For now, he might still make it, but if his breathing got any worse or his fever got any higher, she wasn't so sure anymore.  
The Hungarian just leant down and kissed his cheek. "Stay with us, sweetheart," she whispered. "You've got a little brother to stay alive for. Even if just for a little while longer… I want to try and have him come over and see you one last time, if that's what is needed. So stay with us now…"

* * *

 **Don't worry too much about Prussia (I can't stop calling him that... in-story he'll be East, out-of-story he'll be Prussia. I just can't)  
You know I wouldn't kill him, right? And if I did, it would not be before the end of this book, and that might be another 15~20 chapters yet, depending on whether or not I will include the 'epilogue' chapters I've got planned since...  
Well, since I started CYH, more or less.  
**

 **Well, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and thanks so much for reading yet again!**


	39. Chapter 39

**Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and/or followed!**

 **Okay, so this chapter was more of a struggle to write than I thought it would be. Strange.**

 **Anyways, guess what? I passed my exams. So no more studying (except of course for that history exam that I want to do over, considering my hobbies, that wasn't good enough) until September, so yeah...! I've got all the time to write.  
Just so long as I can find enough inspiration to keep it up at a decent pace, of course.  
Nah, I will.**

 **That said...! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. (Not all of it will be sad, I promise. Just most.)**

* * *

Over the course of three days since East Germany had collapsed, the sick nation's condition gradually worsened. He could still barely breathe and his lungs still hurt, but by now he felt too sick to do much of anything. Even lying in bed could be draining at times; just the struggle to breathe used up a lot of what little energy he had left.  
At least Hungary was with him, looking after him, comforting him. It was her gentle presence that eased his fear a little.  
It was another presence that made him afraid in the first place.

East's half-lidded gaze flitted from one face to another, taking in all the familiar features he saw: Hesse's scarred eye, Saxony's lively brown eyes, Bavaria's raven-black hair. Holy Rome's gentle smile and Brandenburg's loving gaze. He'd missed them all so much over the years and he had wanted to be with them again. Seeing them now, however, filled him with dread.  
The panic he felt welling up seemed to press onto his chest and made breathing even more difficult. Wheezing, he tried to breathe, but every gulp of air that he managed to suck in stabbed his sore lungs like needles.  
He felt a soft hand on his. Dazed, the Prussian looked to his right, seeing Hungary beside him. The young woman was staring at him with glassy green eyes, but when she saw him look at her, she smiled. "It's all right, Gil," she whispered to him. "It's okay. Just try to sleep, sweetie."  
Glancing back at Brandenburg and the others, he shook his head. "I can't…" he choked out weakly. "If I sleep…"  
Hungary blinked, her expression changing to one of pity in a heartbeat. "Oh, no, of course not," she tried to reassure him, leaning a little closer. "No, sweetheart, you'll be all right."  
East felt even more choked up as he glanced around at the spirits of his family members. _I don't believe you…_  
He was done for. He knew he was. He'd been getting more and more sickly with the year over the past century, now he had lost his government, lost his capital, lost his land and even his identity. Prussia no longer existed, so why would he? He might be called East Germany now, but he was still Prussia, and Prussia was gone.  
Now he was so sick that he was certain he was dying right then and there. The fact that all his family was with him did nothing to disprove that theory. Rather than feeling comforted by the thought that they were waiting for him, he was terrified by it. _Please be more patient… Please wait a bit longer…_ East felt a lump growing in his throat, choking him. His eyes pricked with warm tears as he gasped for breath. Hungary then put one hand on his chest, which was damp with sweat and heaving in his struggle for oxygen. She hushed him gently and came to sit on the side of his bed rather than in her chair, leaning over him a little but still giving him space.  
But East Germany couldn't be calmed anymore now, and the nation got more afraid the more he had to fight for breath. The more he panicked, however, the more he had to struggle. It was a cycle that he didn't seem able to break through. Lack of oxygen made him dizzy, the world spinning before his eyes.  
His chest felt like it burst into flames when he started coughing, the pain bringing fresh tears to his eyes. The sick nation didn't even try to stay composed now. He didn't have the energy for it anymore. The Prussian whimpered when he tasted a metallic liquid in his mouth after he stopped coughing, the taste sending another jolt of fear through his frail body.  
Hungary stayed calm, unlike him, and just grabbed the washcloth that was on his nightstand. The older nation dipped it into the bucket by his bedside, squeezed the water out of it, then calmly and carefully dabbed at his face. The cool water that still trickled out of the washcloth felt like little drops of heaven on his feverish, warm skin, but at the same time the cold made him shiver. He coughed again, and Hungary moved away when he did so, placing her hand back on his thin chest instead. She massaged his aching ribcage for a moment, until he was done coughing once again, after which she grabbed the washcloth again.  
This time, instead of carefully dabbing at his sweaty forehead, the Hungarian very gently wiped his lips and his chin with it. East could taste it, of course, but seeing the blood on the white washcloth as his old friend moved away to wash it was one thing too much for him at that moment.  
He whimpered softly, trying to bite back a sob. "Lizzie…" he choked out, terrified and miserable. "Lizzie, I… I'm scared…"  
Hungary sighed softly and leant back over him, kissing his forehead, gently running her fingers through his snowy hair. "It's okay, Gil," she whispered. "There's no need to be afraid. Nothing to be scared of."  
East shook his head. "I don't want to die…" he cried softly, shivering with fear. "Not yet. Not here. Not like this." He gulped in air, panting for a few seconds before he could speak again. "I don't want to go without… I want Ludwig…"  
"Sweetie, it's all right," Hungary tried to comfort him again, still sounding calm and gentle. "You'll see him again. I promise you will."  
Once again, East shook his head, gritting his teeth as he both cried and fought to breathe. "I want to…" he choked out, barely able to speak anymore. "I want to… see him _now._ W-while I'm still alive… I just want to hold m-my little brother… just once more…" The albino nation shivered as he suppressed another bout of coughs, but he couldn't do so for long.  
When East coughed up more blood, Hungary cleaned it off for him again, gave him a kiss on the cheek, whispered words of comfort. She was trying to get him to quiet down a little, telling him to save his breath. None of that worked, and eventually the young woman shifted and carefully pulled East onto her lap, holding him gently.  
The sickness, the lack of oxygen and his own panic eventually left East completely worn out, and it was only then that he was quiet again. Now that he had no energy to panic or cry anymore, at least breathing came easier to him again, although it still hurt him to draw in air.  
Hungary still held him then, her arms wrapped around him to keep him warm. "Don't you worry about a thing, Gil," she whispered to him, her voice warm and comforting to the sick nation. "I will make sure there's nothing for you to worry about. I'll make sure you either survive, or Ludwig is allowed to come here for you. All right? _You will see him again._ I promise, you will."  
East couldn't do anything but lean against her and press his face into the crook of her neck. He just hoped she knew he was trying to say thanks, even if he didn't believe her. He couldn't believe her. West wasn't going to be allowed to come here. East wouldn't survive this on his own strength. Russia refused to get a doctor for whatever reason. No matter how much Hungary assured him everything would be all right, he knew it wouldn't be as surely as he knew the sun would rise in the morning and set in the evening.  
But she tried, and he was grateful for that.

* * *

Russia came home early that day.  
It was an issue at times that the Russian had to work outside the house so often. More often than not, Stalin wanted direct access to his nation, which meant that Russia had very few hours at home on most days, and the majority of those hours would be spent on sleep so that he could work again the next day. His frequent absence came as a blessing to some, as most of the nations forced to live in Moscow now disliked Russia greatly for keeping them 'prisoner', as they called it. To others, it was a nuisance, because Russia also happened to be the only one with the authority to make certain decisions.  
That was exactly why it was a disaster in Hungary's opinion that he was away so much, and why she celebrated it that, for once, he'd had a shorter day.

She lay beside East Germany when Russia came back home. Despite her conviction when she'd spoken to her friend earlier that morning, she believed she might well be unable to follow up on her promises. When East had started coughing up bloody mucus, her heart had sunk with a speed as if it has been tied to a boulder. She feared he didn't have much longer at this rate.  
The only thing she felt she could do now was to stay with him at all times and comfort him until it was over, if and when that time came. So she lay pressed against him, one arm wrapped around his shivering body, the other supporting his head with her fingers running through his hair in a slow, soothing rhythm. She didn't know if he even noticed it -he was asleep nearly all the time now, after all- but it was soothing to her as much as it might be to him.  
Hungary didn't even stir when the door opened, her gaze fixed on East's flushed face instead. It was Poland's voice she heard first. "She won't leave," he said, complained almost, and she could guess to whom he did so. "She even slept here last night. Something needs to be done."  
There was a sigh then, footsteps coming closer. Only when Russia stood towering over her and East Germany did Hungary look up at him. "Hungary…" he began tentatively, his eyes clearly telling her that he had already given up on convincing her to leave. Still, he tried, even if just for show. "You know you're not supposed to be here all the time. The men don't go into the women's room and the other way around. Now that East is sick, it's a rare exception, but don't overdo it."  
Almost subconsciously, Hungary held her friend a little closer. "I'm not overdoing anything," she protested defiantly. "He needs me. He needs someone who cares about him, someone who loves him, by his side all the time now."  
Russia blinked, a little unsure. "Well, I don't think… Don't exaggerate, Hungary, please. You know he'll make it."  
" _He won't_ ," Hungary snapped, her voice quivering with emotion as she spoke. She felt tears pricking in her eyes. "I've told you before and I'll tell you again: he's not going to make it if he doesn't get help. _Please_ , Russia, I'm begging you!" She gritted her teeth when Russia looked about to protest once more, and she pleaded with him again before he had the chance to say anything. "He's _dying_ , Ivan!" She didn't know why she had decided to use Russia's human name, one that only rarely got used, but it somehow felt like she had to.  
Russia stiffened when he heard his name, however, his eyes widening a tiny bit. "He shouldn't… Shouldn't be dying…" he stammered. "H-he…"  
"But he is," Hungary cut him off, sniffling softly. "He already was, Ivan. He already had limited time left, even as Prussia. This dissolution… This _sickness_ will kill him if he doesn't get help." Images flashed through her head, memories of Holy Rome. The poor boy had been sick like East now was before he'd died. Her friend's decline now was too similar to what had happened to the empire who had basically adopted her into his already large family and had treated her like a sister. Every second of this hurt. It hurt her to see East suffering so much, and it hurt her even more when she pictured Holy Rome in his last days and when she saw the resemblance between the two brothers in ways she'd hoped she would never need to.  
She took a deep breath, fighting away her grief and her fear. "We can do for him what we couldn't do in the past," she said, more softly now, hoping this would be enough. "The medical world has made such great progress over the past century. He might still be saved if he gets help now, but he doesn't have much time left." She sighed deeply, hugging East Germany close and pressing her face into his damp, greasy hair. "Don't let him die, Ivan," she pleaded softly, fighting not to cry. The thought of losing him, the arrogant little nation she had discovered centuries ago, felt too real at that moment. "Don't let my little buddy die…"  
Her pleas were met with silence, and she lack of response drove the tears that had welled up to trickle down her face. She gritted her teeth in an effort to stay quiet, but it was getting hard.  
Then, finally, Russia spoke again, her voice laced with anxiety. "I-I don't want to," he choked out. "I want him to live. B-but Stalin…"  
" _Fuck_ Stalin!" Hungary then burst out, her heart skipping a beat in terror a second after she did so. What was the penalty for saying that? What would they do to her? She prayed Russia would understand, that he wouldn't tell anyone that she'd said this, not ever. She forced herself to go on. "This is about Gilbert. It's about his _life._ " She looked up at Russia again, determined to get this done. "Stalin wanted him here for a reason, I'm sure. What good will Gil be to him if he's dead? He'll want Gilbert to survive, I'm sure. So please, _please_ get him a doctor."  
Russia shook his head, looking even more scared. "You know what happens if we go against Stalin's wishes!" he insisted more pressingly now. "Do you really want to risk that?"  
Hungary was about to retort angrily and call him a coward, but then East Germany shifted and coughed. She leant back, looking at him, then sighed. Stretching out one hand to Russia, she asked calmly: "Can you hand me that washcloth?"  
Russia stared for a moment, then nodded and bent down to grab it. Once he had it in his hand, however, he stiffened. "There's-!"  
"Blood," Hungary cut him off in a soft voice. "I know. That started this morning." Then she just gestured that she really wanted that washcloth now, and Russia handed it to her. He watched as she cleaned the few drops of blood off East's lips again, then also off her own shoulder. Gritting her teeth, she tossed the washcloth away and held East close again.  
But then, suddenly, she felt a hand gently pushing her away from him. She opened her eyes to glare up at Russia, feeling as if she could just about tear his throat out now. But he looked at her with a calm gaze, all apprehension that had been there earlier gone. "All right," he said then. "We're taking him to hospital."

* * *

It didn't take long once they reached the nearest hospital for East Germany to be taken away. He got an oxygen mask to help him breathe for the time being, and the humans said they would have to drain the fluids out of his lungs before anything else could be done. After that, they could start giving him medicine against the infection. They said he would most likely be okay, but they shouldn't have waited any longer to bring the nation to hospital. Hungary asked how long they thought he would have had if he hadn't received any treatment, and once of the doctors answered that it would have been two days at most, hours in the worst case. Russia paled considerably when he heard this, guilt flashing in his eyes.  
Later, when she was alone with Russia, Hungary inspected the younger nation for a moment. She knew how much fear Stalin had instilled in his nation, and she knew to some extent how he had done it, too. In his situation, Hungary would have been as apprehensive of breaking the rules as Russia was, she had no doubt. Russia was mostly all right if he wasn't within his own borders, especially if Stalin wasn't anywhere near, but it was safe to say he was terrified of the man. Terrified, yet also praising his 'great' leader frequently, just like the majority of his people. They had all been thoroughly brainwashed, for all Hungary could tell.  
It was for that reason that she couldn't be too angry with Russia, and even felt a little bit proud of him for going against his leader's wishes after all, even if it took him a little while to get there.  
Right now, she just smiled at him, a little tentatively still. "Thank you, Ivan," she said, surprising even herself when she automatically used his human name again. Why did she do that, anyway? Well, it didn't even matter. Hungary smiled a little wider when Russia looked at her quietly. "You did the right thing just now, taking Gilbert here. Thank you for that."  
Russia sighed and looked away, his gaze hardening a little, a spark of anger in his eyes. "Those people said he wouldn't have survived much longer, though," he replied stiffly. "If I _hadn't_ changed my mind now, he would've died. I would have _let_ him die." He shifted uncomfortably. "I don't want that. Even so… this feels wrong. Being here. Having brought East here. I shouldn't have."  
"But you should have," Hungary insisted calmly. "And you did. Doing this wasn't wrong, I promise."  
"If it's not," Russia just huffed, clearly not believing her, "then explain to me why we'll both be punished for it? Because we will. You know it as well as I do." He got up then, stating briskly: "We're going back now. Come."  
Hungary had no choice but to follow him, hoping that she would at least be able to see her friend tomorrow. Well… At least she knew East Germany was in good hands now.

* * *

West Germany sat at his desk when he heard a knock on the door. He put his pen down and got up with a sigh. He was fairly certain it was America, although the young nation had been certain that the American wouldn't be here today; the older nation's last visit before he left to go to his own land was scheduled a few days from now. Had he been wrong about that somehow?  
If it wasn't America, he couldn't imagine who it would be. Confused and curious, West went to open the door. He hadn't been mistaken about one thing: America said a quick greeting when the door was opened for him and went inside before West could say anything.  
"Sorry to drop in on you like this," America began talking almost immediately. "I got some information that I'd prefer to pass on to you now instead of in a few days, or even tomorrow. You'd like to hear it now, too, I think." He looked straight at West when he added: "It's about your brother."  
West felt his heart skip a beat. For a moment he was excited, but then he only felt sick. What were the odds of him getting any good news? Actually, what could even be defined 'good' by now? He sighed, gaze on the floor. "So," the young German mumbled, "is my brother dead yet?"  
America was silent for a moment after this, but then he shook his head. "No, no, of course not," he stammered, as if he couldn't believe his own ears just then. "East's been sick, and it was pretty bad until a few days ago, as was to be expected." The American still sounded a little unsure as he spoke. "He's doing well now, from what I've been told. Not fully recovered yet, but it's certain that he'll be fine by next week at the latest."  
West nodded silently, feeling a little shaky after being told this news. His brother had been sick. Badly. Would he really get better, or was this a lie to make him feel better? The worst part of it was that East was with _Russia._ A nation who had branded East Germany and kicked him into a wall just over a month ago would not care if he got sick, he was certain of it. Russia would have left East to suffer without ever bothering to ask how he was doing, maybe even just sitting back and watching him fight the illness without even offering him water or something of the likes.  
West felt horrible thinking about the treatment his brother must have received even in a condition like that.  
America pulled his attention away from that when he asked tentatively: "What… What was that question about?" He sounded almost freaked out over it. "Did you seriously just ask 'is my brother dead yet?' No offense, West, but… _What the fuck?_ " When West looked up at the older nation, America was staring at him wide-eyed and disbelieving. "Do you…" he choked out, as if he could barely even say the words. "Do you… _want_ him to die?"  
The question hit West harder than he could have expected. He hadn't quite realised what he'd said until America confronted him with it like this. Having to confront himself with the answer wasn't any easier; the only answer he could give that felt _honest_ in any way was the one that made him feel most horrible. Still, it was the truth.  
" _Yes._ " He hadn't known he felt this way until now, but he did. "I want him to die. I wish he was already dead."  
He felt himself trembling as he spoke, but he went on anyway. He said these things now to clear it up to himself as much as to America. "At least if my brother were dead," he said hoarsely, "I would understand why I can never see him again. Right now, I just don't get it."  
America flinched a little as West spoke, but when the younger nation fell silent, tense and trembling, he still decided to speak up, however tentatively. "It's not going to be like that, West," he said softly. "This separation won't be forever. We told you before, didn't we?"  
West gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the emotions rushing through him. He was worried about East being sick, overjoyed that he was recovering by now while at the same time strangely disappointed that his brother was still alive. He couldn't even keep track of what he was feeling and why, and America talking to him wasn't making it any better.  
"Just get out," the German nation muttered eventually. "I appreciate you coming here to tell me this, but… Just…" He sighed, his eyes narrowed angrily. " _Go._ "  
Looking stunned for a moment, America nodded after a few seconds, silent. He just stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. He placed that onto the table, glancing at West Germany as he did so, then made his way to the door. "I'm sorry I didn't have better news for you, West," he said in a soft voice as he walked past the younger nation. "Maybe that letter will make up for it." Then he left.

Alone again, West stopped trying to appear somewhat calm.  
He had wanted to hear about his brother since the day they had been separated. This had been the first thing he had heard about East since that day, and although it hadn't been good news, it also hadn't been all bad. It had in fact been better news than he had expected. So why wasn't he happier about this? Why wasn't he happy _at all_?  
Well, he knew the answer to that, of course. It was simple: _nothing had changed._ He knew about the condition his brother was in now, he knew that East was on the road to recovery, too. It just didn't change anything just to know that. West was still alone, his brother still many kilometres away, on the other side of a border that he could not cross. The Allies tried to make him feel better, he knew that much, but they didn't really succeed. They just weren't the right people to do so. The only people that he believed might be able to make a difference were the family members he had left. But then, the Benelux still kept their distance from him, and he wanted them to take their time before they would try to restore their relationship. Switzerland and Liechtenstein were… not an option.  
The only person he had left to depend on was also under military occupation, which meant for both West and Austria that there were restrictions to traveling for them. They needed permission to leave their respective capitals. West didn't have a telephone anymore, and letters just didn't really do it for them. It wasn't enough.  
If only he had the ability to see the ghosts of his deceased siblings like East could. He would even be willing to suffer a brain haemorrhage for it at this point. He would give anything to have someone to talk to, to have _family_ to talk to.  
He recalled his brother telling him that loneliness was the most painful thing in the world. Now he knew it was true.

America had left a letter. Maybe he should read it, see if it could serve as some distraction. Very unlikely, though: he figured it was the letter America had received, informing them of East Germany's sickness.  
But it wasn't. West Germany was surprised to find the envelope hadn't been opened yet. Curious, the young nation carefully tore it open and got the letter out.  
Just seeing the handwriting was enough to make him feel choked up, and he almost didn't dare to read, but he couldn't take his eyes off it.

 _Hey little bro,_

 _Sorry if the news you just got gave you a scare. That is, I assume you've been updated before you got this letter? If not, here's the short version: I caught a bad case of pneumonia a little while ago. I won't lie, it was pretty bad. Enough so that I had to be taken to hospital.  
But I'm all right now. They kept me in hospital for five days, but I'm back home again now. I only have a slight cough anymore now, so I'm good.  
Now, I don't want you to worry about me, but I realise that just letting you know that I'm doing a lot better now isn't enough for that. So here's some more reasons why you shouldn't worry:  
Living here in Moscow isn't as bad as it might seem. All of us living here -that's all the nations the Soviet Union is occupying- aren't exactly friends, I'll admit, but we manage pretty well. Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, Czech and Slovakia are the only ones who really don't like me. Well, and I suppose Belarus doesn't like me much either, but she doesn't seem to like anyone except Russia. It's a bit creepy.  
All the others -and that's more than the nations I've listed just now!- are fine to be around. They don't treat me any differently from how they treat others, they're not at all hostile. In fact, Estonia, Ukraine and of course Hungary are three nations I get along with pretty well, and I'm hoping to make that list longer in the near future.  
Russia isn't so bad, actually. He simply follows all of Stalin's commands like a loyal dog, but he doesn't treat any of us badly. He has his creepy moments, just as ever, but he's all right. I still haven't forgiven him for the whole brand-thingy, of course, but I'm pretty certain his leader ordered him to do it; the others all have been branded, too.  
We're not made to perform forced labour or anything that one might expect from these communists. We each have chores in this house, but that's just to keep the household running, just as we would have at home. We've got work to do that's the same as before, when we were independent and living in our own countries. That's all. We're just living here, doing our jobs, living our lives. We're fine.  
See? No need to worry about me, Ludwig. None at all._

 _I heard the Allies got you a house? That's wonderful, Ludwig. Don't underestimate that, all right? Try to make it into a home, please. Don't wait for me to come back, just make that place a home for yourself as soon as you can. You deserve it.  
Are you doing okay? You've not been sick, too, have you? I sure hope not. Promise me that you'll look after yourself, little brother, physically and mentally. It's hard, I know it is, but don't give up._

 _Can I ask you a favour? If they've already reburied Brandenburg, can you get some flowers for her grave? Tell her I'm sorry I can't visit her anymore? I know that I can talk to her now, but after going to her grave regularly for nearly 250 years, it still feels wrong not to go there anymore…  
If you'd rather not, that's fine. I understand if it's too difficult. It's not exactly something I need, it just would be nice if you could. If you can't, don't push yourself, all right? That's not necessary._

 _I love you, Ludwig. I love you more than you could ever know, and I swear on my eagle and everything Prussian, I will come back someday. I will never leave you, my little brother. I know it may seem impossible, but I'll survive this. If it's to see you again, Ludwig, I would survive anything. Trust me, I will do whatever it takes to be with you again.  
You know you can trust me on that, right? After all, they may have given me a new name, but I'm still Prussia. I always will be. And Prussians are reliable and sincere. Prussians are tough people, you know. Hard to break. 'Lerne leiden ohne zu klagen'. So I will, and I hope you will, too.  
They can't keep us apart forever, Ludwig._

 _Take care now._

 _Dein Bruder_

 _P.S. Hungary insists that I tell you she loves you and that she's proud of you for being so strong. Also that she's worried you're not taking good care of yourself for whatever reason. Please remember to sleep well, and she knows there's a famine, but try to eat as well as you can, too.  
Honest to God, I'm not going to write everything that she's spouting here beside me; I'd need a third page, and maybe a fourth, too. Just know that she loves you, she's proud of you, and she's gone into mother-mode now, which is starting to get on my nerves. Life as usual, isn't it?_

West Germany could only smile as he read this letter. Once he was at the end, he almost instantly went back to the beginning and read it again. Then a third time.  
East had been allowed to write to him. Hopefully this would happen more often.  
Just exchanging letters with Austria may not be enough, but letters from his brother were more than he had ever expected to get anymore, which made them a million times more precious. He actually had half a mind to frame these pages, just in case they would be the only ones he would get.  
Suddenly an idea came to mind, and he hastily grabbed the envelope. The address on it was that of the Cecilienhof, where America was staying temporarily before he would go back. Of course, East Germany didn't know West's new address yet. Flipping the envelope around, his heart fluttered when he saw the return address written on it, also.  
He took the letter and the empty envelope to his study, sat down at his desk again and shoved all his work aside. He grabbed empty paper instead, then a pen, and immediately began writing.

 _Dear brother…_

* * *

 **So Prussia's still alive and he's getting better again. Told you I wouldn't kill him. I can't. He's too precious.**

 **Just to keep writing in moments that I'm less inspired for Hope to Die, I've started something one might call a 'lost chapters' thingy for Cross Your Heart & Hope to Die, which will consist of scenes that I had planned but didn't incorporate into the story in the end or just scenes from a different character's perspective. I might upload it here someday, if I get enough material into it.  
Also still working on the PruBrand and little Berlin AU bit by bit.**

 **So maybe those are something to look forward to as well?  
I'll try to make the next chapter nicer again, less angsty, just... Just not as sad anymore. (Maybe a time-skip will do the trick...!)**

 **Thanks for reading once again, and I hope you liked this chapter!**


	40. Chapter 40

**Guess who wrote a happier chapter?**

 **Also, guess who got inspiration for an original story? Finally! I'm still in the planning phase, making character descriptions, working on the plot, but it's the most solid thing I've had, like, ever. Most solid thing that isn't fanfiction, of course.**

 **If you'd like, I'll give more info on it when I've got more.**

 **Anyways, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and/or followed once more! You're still awesome and you'll always be!**

 **I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. More happiness for a change!**

* * *

It was the year 1950. For a year now, East and West Germany had been officially split up, the occupational zones in West Germany merging whilst the Soviet Zone became a different country entirely. West Germany received help from the western Allied nations, a financial support that was granted to all nations willing to accept it. It was offered to East Germany and the other nations occupied by the Soviet Union also, but the Soviet Union would not allow for any 'capitalist' influences in its satellite states.  
West thought the Soviets were fools, then. Capitalism was working out pretty well for him so far: the economy was steadily improving under the guidance of the United States and other western nations, living conditions gradually getting better for his people. At first he had been afraid, remembering all too well the disastrous 'support' they had received after the First World War, but soon he became more optimistic again. He felt bad for his brother, that he had to miss out on all the good things that were happening, but most of all he felt angry towards the Soviet Union and its communist government, which condemned everything the western nations did and denied all the good things that came out of it.  
It was because of them that his brother and his people, and all those other nations and people under Soviet control, could not benefit from all this. There was enough work to keep most of the population busy, production rates went up, the economy was getting back on track.  
In short, despite still missing his brother every hour of every day and worrying about him… West Germany felt good these days. Great, even.

Another thing that he was positive about was that for him and Austria, traveling to each other's countries was now permitted again, meaning they could see each other a lot more often. That, too, was one of the things that had made West feel better over the past years. He may not have any contact with his brother other than the occasional letter (a rare pleasure now that they had officially been split up as two separate nations), but at least he had his cousin.  
In fact, Austria was going to come over that same day, after they had been apart for three months. The last time they'd seen each other, West had gone to Vienna for a week. By now, West had managed to transform his basement into a proper guest bedroom, just as he had intended, with a bed, a nightstand, a wardrobe and he had even managed to get heating in there for the winter months. In time, maybe he would add more, but for now this was sufficient.  
Thankfully Austria was traveling by car, so West wouldn't have to pick him up anywhere: the young nation still had work to do before his cousin would arrive, and he always preferred not having anything left that needed doing when he also had guests to spend time with. Of course, it was the improvements to the economy and politics that had given West this pile of work every single day. Sometimes he thought there wouldn't be an end to it, but it was worth it.  
At least with Austria over, he would have an excuse to also do other things from time to time.

Thankfully, by the time there was a knock on the door, West had managed to finish most of his work, at least finished the most vital parts of it, and the house looked tidy enough, too. Happy that he would see his cousin again, West went to get the door.  
He felt the usual rush of warmth upon seeing Austria's face again, but that was soon replaced by surprise and confusion. Austria was holding something, and it wasn't his bag; that one was on the ground beside him. West's attention was immediately pulled to that… thing.  
"W-what…?" He didn't quite comprehend it. Why would Austria take _that_ , of all things, to West Germany?  
Austria only smiled almost mischievously and adjusted his hold on the squirming puppy he held in his hands. He simply held the little animal out to West. "Can you take him for a moment? It's a bit difficult to have him squirming and kicking and also carry a bag."  
Dumbfounded, West just took the little pup from his cousin, his mind completely blank. The young animal tried to escape from his grasp, but he held it firmly. Too firmly, maybe? What was too tight for such a little thing? He had no idea.  
When Austria had brought his bag inside and closed the door, West finally managed to make a sound again. "What's this about, Roderich?" he asked, his mind reeling as he looked at the struggling pup in his hands. He had half a mind to just let go of it, if it wanted to get away from him so desperately, but would it be hurt if it fell? Not worth taking the risk.  
Austria only grinned again and leant over to his younger cousin, ruffling up his hair. "Just a little gift," he said, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. "Don't worry, I've brought a bag of dog food for it as well, just to get you started. The rest… Well, I couldn't drag all the necessities with me, I'm sorry." He then turned to the little pup then and gave it an affectionate scratch behind the ear. "It's a little shepherd," he said then, still smiling. "Nine weeks old. You'll need to train it yourself, I'm afraid, but that's what works best."  
West's confusion didn't go away when he got this answer. Instead he just stared at Austria wide-eyed, wondering what the hell he'd been thinking. Had he just woken up one day and thought, 'hey, let's get West a puppy! He's obviously not busy enough yet' or something of the likes? _What?_  
"Why would you-?" He paused and grumbled when the energetic little thing nearly jumped out of his grasp. "Roderich, I swear, this is… Just… _Why?_ "  
With a sigh, Austria took the pup from West again and placed it on the floor, where it immediately dashed off into the living room. "For quite obvious reasons, to be honest with you," he said, shrugging. "You don't like being alone and dogs are excellent companions. You said you needed an excuse to do something other than work every now and then, and here you've got one."  
West just grunted at this. "And when I said that," he grumbled, getting annoyed, "you didn't translate that to 'I'm very busy lately, I barely have time for anything else'?"  
"You just need to balance it all out more," Austria replied calmly, unfazed by his cousin's reaction. "A dog will be good for you, I'm sure: you need someone to boss around, after all. It'll be _fine_ , Ludwig," he added more pressingly when West was about to protest again. "Really. You like company, dogs like company. You like order and discipline, dogs like order and discipline. You'll get along famously, I'd wager!" He then nudged the still-dumbfounded West Germany and told him to just come along into the living room with him.

The puppy had already made itself at home. Thankfully not on the carpet.  
Yet again, West grunted. "Thanks, Austria," he muttered, pale blue gaze fixed on the puddle of urine in the middle of the room. "Really… I just cleaned the house this morning."  
By now, Austria grinned almost sheepishly and chuckled. "W-well… If I might suggest a training program, _potty training_ is one you might want to put at the top of the list." He then promised that he would clean it this time, considering he had been the one to bring the dog out of the blue, and he went off in search of cleaning supplies.  
Meanwhile, West was left to stare at the little dog that was still running around the room and sniffing everything along the way. So… now what? What was he supposed to do with it now? He just about felt as if his brain was starting to overheat trying to figure this out, when the puppy ran up to him. It halted just in front of the young nation and stared up at him with round, dark eyes, its short, stumpy tail wagging vigorously.  
West met its gaze then, and the two stared at each other for a few seconds until the pup made a sound that was probably supposed to be a bark, but not quite. Taken aback by this, West just blinked for a moment, then brought out tentatively: "Okay, I'll admit… You're awfully cute." Then he sighed and shook his head. "Doesn't change the fact that I don't know what to do with you, except getting annoyed that you just peed on the floor. Don't…. Don't do that anymore."  
"Sorry, Ludwig, but…" Austria then said, just coming back into the living room with a bucket and a washcloth in his hand. He was smirking a little. "That's not exactly how you train dogs."  
West spun around and looked at his cousin instead, a bit agitated by now. "And you've got so much experience with dogs, then?" _If so, you can take it back, dammit._  
Austria sighed and shrugged as he got to work. "Well, more than you, I can tell you that much." He was quiet for a moment as he began cleaning, but halfway through he spoke up again. "Maybe you can grab it a bowl with water in it?" he suggested. "And another one for the food, of course."  
"So it can pee all over the floor again later on?" West grumbled, half to himself, as he went into the kitchen to get two bowls out.  
Maybe Austria had been drunk? It would certainly explain a lot. Even less than he knew what to do with a dog, let alone an immature, energetic pup, did West understand how his cousin had come to the ridiculous decision of bringing that animal as a gift to him.  
Despite everything, after a few minutes Austria and West sat in the living room, talking calmly, just catching up on each other's news. The puppy had tired itself out by dashing around and was now sprawled on his side on the carpet, fast asleep, kicking with his hind paws every now and then. At least he was quiet now. Not peeing on the floor anymore, either. That is, not for now.  
Austria, realising by now that maybe he should have been a little less rash in this decision, just tried to smile at his younger cousin. "Just give the little tyke a chance, Ludwig," he insisted carefully. "I'm sure you'll end up liking him. To tell you the truth…" He trailed off for a moment, turning his attention to the little pup again, a spark of sadness in his eyes. "When I saw him and his littermates, of all those pups, he seemed most suited somehow, because he… He reminded me of Gilbert, in a way."  
Confused all over again, West stared at his cousin before turning to stare at the pup instead. How was he like East Germany in any way? Austria soon explained without West even having to ask: "He was the most energetic, the loudest of them all, and literally pushed aside his littermates in order to get attention." The Austrian laughed for a moment, both happiness and grief in his voice when he did. "Just like that fool of a cousin I've got, there was no ignoring this little guy! Impossible to miss, that's for sure."  
West took it in silently, gaze still fixed on the puppy, and after a minute of silence, for the first time since that dog had been pressed into his hands, he smiled a little.

* * *

Still sleepy, East half-stumbled, half-walked into the dining room, where all the other nations were already gathered and having breakfast and making small talk. He sighed then. "Really, _none_ of you could wake me up?" the albino complained, just before bumping against Bulgaria's chair and apologising quickly. Then he grumbled a little. "I'm lucky there's still food left, dammit."  
No one commented on that. Instead, Czech informed him flatly: "Your shirt's inside-out."  
Just having sat down, East grunted and placed his forehead on the table in frustration. Sure, why not? "That's what you get when you can't see shit in the morning," he replied with a sigh, trying to sound angry, even though he was quite amused by now. Sitting up again, he looked at the blur he recognised as Poland. "Polly, give me back my glasses."  
Poland raised one eyebrow at this, stating indignantly: "Hey, I didn't do it this time!" The blond nation had developed the habit of snatching East's glasses whenever he got the chance and hiding them somewhere just to annoy him, and he always liked doing it, so East believed it when he said that he hadn't done it this time around.  
Suddenly Slovakia moved further down the table, leaning over it towards East whilst snickering softly. "There you go, jerk," he said with laughter in his voice.  
East Germany huffed as he put on his glasses, unable to suppress a smile anymore now. "Thanks, asshole." It really was life as usual, except of course that East had overslept. That didn't happen often. Glad to see everything clearly again, the Prussian just enjoyed the moment for a second or two, then turned back to Poland. "All righty… Polly, give me back my pills."  
"Aw, come on!" Poland then complained, smirking wide as he tossed a small bottle to East, who just about managed to catch it before it could be smashed to pieces on the floor. "It's no fun if you know immediately who did what."  
"Then stop being so obvious," East replied flatly, reaching to grab his share of breakfast.  
Belarus then whined softly. "Why'd you have to give them back, Felix?" she complained to Poland with a small pout. "I really want to see him have a stroke…"  
At this, East just rolled his eyes. He was certain she didn't mean that. Well… fairly certain, anyway. "Thanks, Belarus. Good morning to you, too."  
It had been an uncomfortable conversation when East had come back from the hospital three years ago, after his pneumonia. After discussing it with Hungary, he had decided it would be best if he told everyone about the situation with his failing health. So he had gathered everyone that same evening and had started talking. First he had told them about his eyes -after all, he still rarely wanted to wear his glasses when other nations were around and had only started wearing them all day here after that evening. The next topic had been that he got sick more easily and that it could get pretty bad, as the pneumonia had demonstrated. Lastly, just so that he wouldn't have to be secretive about his medication anymore, he also told them about having had a stroke 18 years ago now. They were the first 'outsiders' who knew, and they seemed to have realised immediately that it was something special that he had actually opened up to them about it.  
It had been uncomfortable, but it had worked out well. No one had bothered him about it other than teasing him sometimes. In fact, they seemed to have grown a bit more understanding, even Poland and Lithuania. Just a bit, of course.  
Life had become pretty good. East had grown used to life in the Soviet Union now, three years into it. Every day had a schedule, clear guidelines to follow, and while it could sometimes be a little dull, at least everyone always knew what they were meant to do and when. There was never any confusion about anything.  
He had also really warmed up to most nations. Even his rocky, unsavoury relationship with his old enemies had become quite all right. Poland showed his disdain for East Germany mainly through teasing and snarky comments, and Lithuania wasn't much different. Slovakia would sometimes walk past him and smack him over the head out of the blue, but he never did so hard (at least not since he'd heard of the brain haemorrhage thing) and East didn't really mind. Belarus had her creepy comments and Russia could be a bit of a freak from time to time, just as usual.  
One thing that had changed was his relationship with Hungary. They were very close still, maybe even more than ever now, since they were each other's best friends in this place, but they were just that now: friends. They'd sat down and talked a couple of months ago, and reviewing the past years, they came to the conclusion that any romantic relationship between them simply… didn't work. It had been nice for as long as it had lasted, but it hadn't been very deep or true; East had missed her when they had been apart, but it hadn't been anything like his longing for Brandenburg when they had been separated for some time or after she had died. He had been happy in the years he'd spent with Hungary, but that, too, fell into naught compared to what he now knew was real love. And it had all been similar for Hungary.  
East had practically been on the floor laughing when they both came to the same conclusion. All those centuries that he had been going after Hungary, longing to be with her, hoping that she would come to see his love for her and return it… and then when he had it, he found out it wasn't at all as he had hoped! The irony of it had simply been too much. So typical, too.  
Hungary had been laughing for minutes on end, too.

After breakfast, East quickly went off to prepare for his monthly evaluation with Russia. These were among the things he didn't like: after the others had begun accepting him more, the Russian hadn't been like some sort of safety net to East Germany anymore, and his feelings toward the younger nation had been the same as ever. There was something he didn't like about Russia. Now, however, he could actually tell what it was he disliked so much: he still hadn't forgiven Russia for the dissolution and everything that had happened that day. He hated the star-shaped scar on his chest more than any other scar he'd ever received, and he often tried to avoid the mirror in the bathroom whenever he was there to take a shower. When he couldn't, he felt sick at the mere sight of the Soviet symbol on his skin. He also still hadn't forgiven Russia for waiting until East was near death before deciding to do something about his pneumonia.  
On a daily basis, Russia didn't mistreat any of the nations living under his rule, but it was still a fact that each of them had gone through some sort of abuse in their time here.  
East Germany had actually been wanting to confront Russia about it for months now, and today, the Russian seemed to be in a good mood and East felt bold enough not to wimp out of it yet again. Today, he would do it.

A stack of papers in his arms, East went into Russia's office, heart pounding in his throat. Would he really? What would the consequence of this be? He wasn't actually very keen on finding out, but someone had to tell Russia that he sometimes went too far. And what right did East have to still call himself Prussian, if he couldn't even muster the courage for this? There had been a time when he hadn't backed down from _anything._ He could do this. He would.  
Even so, his heart nearly sank when he saw Russia smile at him as he came in. East just said hi and sat down at the nation's desk, opposite Russia, and put his papers down there. The albino was quiet as Russia began reading through the papers, only answering every now and then when Russia asked questions about it. As time passed, achingly slowly, he grew increasingly nervous. He had to keep on telling himself that if he didn't do this now, it would only be put off again and again, and it would only get more difficult to finally take that step.  
At least twenty minutes had passed like that before the verbal part of the evaluation began, which was very short this time; there wasn't much to say that Russia didn't already know, after all.  
Russia smiled when they were done. "Everything seems to be going pretty smoothly," he concluded happily. "Well… Over here, at least. Although I must say, your people seem to be getting more used to our way of life now, too. I'm sure things will settle themselves."  
East nodded. "Of course they will. I've been feeling exceptionally well lately, and I think it's a sign that things will improve soon."  
With another smile, Russia then pushed the stack of papers over to East again. "Well, if that's everything…"  
"Actually," East interrupted him, feeling his stomach do a backflip when he said this word. Oh, God, there was no way back anymore, now. Maybe a good thing. More likely the worst decision he'd made in the past years. He just forced himself to go on now. "There's one thing I've been meaning to ask you for a while now…"  
Surprised, Russia cocked his head to one side a little, frowning a little. "Oh? And what could that be?"  
East had half a mind to back out of this after all, but then he took a deep breath and stared Russia straight in the eyes. Feeling a rush of determination, he sneered: "Do you have any idea what a piece of shit you can sometimes be?"  
Russia flinched at his words, his eyes widening and indignation sparking in them. "That's not a nice thing to say to a friend," he said, his voice low and laced with anger. "Have I not treated you well in the past years?"  
" _No,_ " East snapped almost automatically, then he shook his head hastily and corrected himself. "I mean, well, yes, you have. Most of the time. But there are a few things that I just can't accept." He stared at Russia again, narrowing his eyes in determination even though he felt sick with nerves. "You almost let me die, you know," the albino nation went on. "I was so certain that I was going to die back then. Do you have any idea how terrifying it was, how uncomfortable and painful that sickness was? _Why didn't you do something about it sooner?_ "  
Russia had already opened his mouth to answer, but before he could utter a single sound, East went on, raising his voice. "Also!" he snapped, feeling anger boiling inside of him now that he was finally getting all this off his chest. "You do realise now that you could have killed me a month before I got sick, too? When I was abolished?" He huffed angrily and crossed his arms over chest. "You threw me to the ground head-first, then kicked me against my head which ended in me slamming - _again!_ \- head-first into a wall!" When he had first thought about it this way, he had been terrified and thanking God that he had come out of it relatively unscathed. "Considering my medical history, Russia, each of those blows could have been lethal for me, even more than they would normally have been -and they're already pretty dangerous!"  
"If you recall," Russia protested now, interrupting East when he had the chance. "I didn't know about your brain-issues back then. You can hardly blame me for that. In fact," he added more sharply, "I'd wager you could have spared yourself a lot of trouble, if only you had swallowed your pride and let the world know what had happened to you straight away!"  
At this, East Germany stiffened and gritted his teeth. "Oh, because that would have worked out so well, you mean?" he sneered. "How long do you think it would have been before I had been abolished _then?_ If the world knew just how bad my situation was, do you think they would have let me live on as a nation at all?"  
"I would have," Russia stated, looking utterly convinced of it.  
But East only snorted. "Yeah, because you just love adding nations to your collection!" he scoffed then, barking out a dry laugh. "You call us your friends, but you know what? Saying stuff like this to a 'friend' may not be _nice,_ but treating your friends like items is just _sick_."  
Russia blinked, taken aback by these words. "Items?" he echoed, confused.  
Gritting his teeth in rage, East basically tore open his shirt and leant forward, pointing to his scar. "What other explanation do you have for this, then?!" he roared, completely infuriated now. "You've fucking _branded me_ , Russia! You've done it to all of us! Do you want to send out a message with this or something? 'Property of the Soviet Union', is that it?" He was about to lash out with his fists as well as his words when Russia sighed.  
All anger seemed to have faded from the taller nation now, some strange form of grief in his expression. "That's exactly what it means," he answered in a soft voice, sad and regretful. "And I'm sorry for having done it to all of you. But it's the rules, East." He then hooked one finger into his scarf, which he even wore now, in the summer, and pulled it aside tentatively.  
East's eyes widened when, for the first time in decades, he saw Russia take of his scarf, and his stomach lurched when he saw the other nation's neck. Russia tilted his head to the right to give East a better view of the star-shaped burn scar that was on his skin, near the middle of his throat but a bit to the left, a sickle and hammer crossing each other underneath it. Exactly like East's scar and those of the others.  
His own rage evaporated in an instant, and he sat back in his chair, lost for words. Meanwhile, Russia traced his scar with shaking fingers, then he closed his eyes. "We're communists, East," he stated with a steady voice despite what he must be feeling at that moment. "Everything belongs to the state. We're no exception."  
East could barely even breathe. Struggling to find his voice back, he shrunk back a little, feeling shame wash over him. "I-I'm sorry…" he choked out softly. "I… I had no idea…" He felt like he had to say something more, but he had no idea what he could possibly say to make up for his berating Russia earlier.  
Thankfully, Russia answered before East could say anything else. "Well, that _was_ the intention," the Russian said with a soft sigh as he wrapped his scarf around his neck again, hiding his scar once more. "I'm sure you understand what I mean when I say I don't fancy walking around with that thing on display." East nodded quickly, still quiet, and Russia looked at him again. "I understand your anger, not just about this, but about the other things, too. Just keep in mind that if everyone gets the same treatment around here, that really does mean _everyone._ "  
Then he cleared his throat and averted his gaze. He grabbed his pen and some papers again, and to East it looked as if he was actually making an effort to end this conversation. He could understand why. "Now, if you'd please," Russia said without looking at the older nation anymore. "I have work to do, after all, and I'm sure the same goes for you."  
Still speechless, East nodded again and got up, grabbing his papers. He felt a little shaky. Before he turned and left, he looked at Russia one more time. "I-I really am sorry for yelling at you like that," he stammered nervously.  
Russia still wouldn't look at him. "That's all right," he replied flatly. "You're not the first and I'm sure you won't be the last. After some time, you tend to get used to this sort of thing…"  
East stood motionless for a moment, but then he turned around and made his way out of the room. He didn't pay any attention to anyone he walked past in the hallways and went to his own office, one that he had to share with Estonia, Romania and Bulgaria.  
He just went to work quietly, but he couldn't concentrate. His mind kept wandering, thinking back to his confrontation with Russia.  
Perhaps Russia was better than he'd thought, after all…

* * *

Three days after Austria had arrived and brought the dog along with him, West and the puppy -now named Aster- were still having staring contests in the morning. West had just woken up, had gone into the living room, and there he was again.  
This time, Aster lay on the carpet, chewing on a corner of it. He looked strangely focused on it, as if it was an important task that the little animal simply had to finish.  
West wasn't going to let him, though. "Aster!" he snapped -he had quickly found out that using an angry tone in his voice quickly discouraged the pup from misbehaving again- narrowing his eyes at the little ball of fluff. "Leave the carpet in one piece, dammit."  
Aster looked up when he heard West's voice, wagging his tail at first but whining softly once he'd heard the anger in the nation's voice. He didn't continue chewing after that. He certainly learnt quickly, West had to give him that. The little pup waited for a moment, gaze following West as the young German refilled the bowl with water and put that back on the floor again. Then he scrambled to his paws and bounded up to West, letting out a playful bark.  
Hearing this, West couldn't suppress a smile, and he bent down to give Aster a quick, soft scratch behind the ear. Immediately, the little brown-and-black dog began wagging its tail again, delighted to be petted, and plunged his snout into the water bowl and began lapping at it. Hopefully he would learn to be less messy when he drank or ate one of these days.  
Together with Austria, West had soon come to the conclusion that there was no use buying a collar and a leash for Aster yet, not when he was still growing so quickly. He was too young to go out for long walks in the city yet, anyway; for now, West let him into the small garden he had and let him do whatever he needed in there. In two weeks' time he would take the little animal for his first real walk, when -hopefully- he had learnt to behave a little more. After all, there might not be many vehicles around, but for a little energetic pup there were still plenty of dangers out on the streets of Berlin.  
Well… Maybe a short walk through this street wouldn't hurt. It was fairly quiet in this area, most days.

West sat at his table in the kitchen about half an hour later, reading through some papers that he had to work on that week. He looked up when he heard footsteps, smiling a little upon seeing Austria. The older nation looked as if he had only just rolled out of bed.  
West couldn't stop himself from smirking a little. "Slept in, I see?" he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.  
Austria didn't respond right away, instead sitting down first. Then he sighed deeply. "Well, sometimes that should be allowed, right?" he said, biting back a yawn. The Austrian smiled then. "Say, you're not going to be working all day, are you?"  
"Of course not," West answered, looking back at the documents again. "I'll have to do something, though, or I'll never get it done in time. Shouldn't take me more than an hour or so."  
Austria got up again, grabbing what he needed to make coffee. "That's all right, then." He was quiet for a moment as he put a kettle onto the stove. "Have you thought about learning to drive a car yet?" he asked out of the blue.  
A little taken aback by this question, West Germany could only stare at his cousin for a moment. "Uh," he stammered after a few seconds. "Well, once or twice, I guess." He had never put any serious thought into it, though.  
Austria hummed in response, focusing on the coffee he was making, his back turned to West. "So how would you feel about getting a lesson or two from me? I've been driving for years now, you know that. I can undoubtedly teach you a thing or two."  
At this, West felt his heart skip a beat in excitement. That would be something… He would certainly be able to travel around much more easily and quickly if he wasn't dependent on trains for long distances. Still, though…  
"Maybe when I'm not as busy anymore," the young nation sighed, although he was smiling as he did. "Right now I've just got a lot of work to do, so I don't think I'll have enough time for it. Also, since you're going home again in a few days, there's not much we can do before then, is there?"  
Austria then finished up the coffee, pouring himself and West a cup, and went back to the table. "That's true," he mused. "And let's not forget you've got Aster to take care of now, too."  
West chuckled, for a moment. "Yes, that too." That pup was going to be a handful, he was certain of it. When he was done training the little thing, hopefully he wouldn't have to pay attention to him every hour of the day anymore. But even if he would need to, would that really be such a bad thing?  
Austria had been right: West Germany had needed company more than anything else. Aster might not be his brother, but that was all right. He didn't want to replace East, after all. He just wanted to fill the void somehow.  
Aster would no doubt be the annoying but lovable presence he had missed. With him around, the last aspect in West's life that still needed improving might finally get that improvement once again.

Life was really starting to get better.

* * *

 **After all, in the 50s, things were improving in West Germany. The economy got back on track, for one.  
In East Germany, things weren't quite as good yet.  
**

 **Prussia is getting used to living with all those other nations, though. I enjoy writing the dynamics between them.**

 **And Aster! One of Germany's canon pets. I don't know if I got the breed right, but honestly, I just like German Shepherds and they're also incredibly cute as puppies. Blackie and Berlitz will also be there eventually, but he'll start out with just Aster.  
(And yes, there will also be a new Gilbird. Poor Gil's been without birds since... since the 18th century? A long time, anyway)**

 **I hope you liked this chapter and thank you for reading!**


	41. Chapter 41

**So I'm back!  
Just a heads-up: in a week, I'll be gone with no access to my laptop for two weeks, except a 24-hour period in the weekend. If I manage to write an entire chapter on paper and then copy it onto my laptop, there will be a chapter then. If not, well... Then there won't be.  
Hooray for work.**

 **Anyways, thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and/or followed!  
Also, to answer a few questions: Anonymous, there will be more Benelux pretty soon, if not next chapter. Mind you, from what I heard, it took a while for the Dutch to forgive the Germans for the war. I don't know how it was for the others, but we weren't very forgiving very quickly... So that scene might not be a very happy one. On the other hand, since I do have this theme of 'Nations aren't necessarily their people' going on, it might be happy after all. Haven't decided yet.  
And then, HetaRosFangirl: if you meant 'Lerne leiden ohne zu klagen', it means "learn to suffer without complaining". It is (according to Wiki anyway) one of the Prussian Virtues.**

 **With that out of the way, I hope you'll like this chapter!**

* * *

East Germany stirred. There was noise coming from somewhere, but he couldn't tell what it was. With a soft sigh, he turned around onto his other side, keeping his eyes shut tight. He didn't know what time it was, but he was fairly certain he still had time to sleep a little longer. Now, if it could stay quiet for a moment, he'd be back asleep in seconds.  
Except the noise was still there. Biting back a frustrated grunt, the albino nation blinked open his eyes. Yup. Still dark. So what was that godforsaken noise that had woken him?  
Just as soon as he wondered about this, he realised what the answer to that question was. A voice, of course, hushed and frantic. Scared. East sat up, curious now. It took a moment to process, but even before he recognised the voice he was hearing, he could recognise the language as being Polish.  
So Poland was having a nightmare, then? Couldn't he do so quietly? Annoyed, East gazed through the darkness, squinting at where he knew Poland slept. The older nation seemed to be tossing about, restless in his sleep. East had half a mind to wake him just to get a chance to sleep again, but then another realisation hit him with a jolt. He had a feeling he knew what Poland's nightmare was about, and at the mere thought a shiver of dread crept down his spine. He couldn't let the poor man be tormented by things like that… Even if it was Poland.  
As quietly as he could, East snuck out of bed and carefully made his way to Poland's bedside, where he knelt down. Poland's expression was one of terror as he begged to be left alone. Trying to keep his own pounding heart under control, East started whispering to him. He spoke in Polish without even realising it at first, but then decided it was best to keep doing so. If he was correct about the topic of Poland's dream, hearing German would only freak him out more. Also, for once, East didn't want to speak Russian like he had been doing for the past years now.  
"Poland," he said in a soft, soothing tone. "Hey, Poland, wake up. Polly… Felix, it's all right." East only sighed softly when his efforts seemed to be useless. Why was he even doing this? He'd had his fair share of nightmares about Auschwitz over the years, and if anyone here had woken up from that like he now had, no one had been considerate enough to wake him. On the other hand, he really did think it would be cruel not to do anything. So he kept trying.  
It must have been a minute or two before there was any response from Poland. The blond nation opened his eyes abruptly, wide and alight with fear, but then he quickly settled down again. East and Poland stared at each other for a few seconds, completely silent. Poland then blinked, taking a deep breath. "East?" he began in a whisper. He narrowed his green eyes. "Go away."  
Biting back an even angrier retort, East replied stiffly: "You could also just thank me, you know." He huffed, realising how ridiculous it was that he even thought he would get any thanks at all. "You looked scared enough to piss yourself, dammit. Be glad I chose to spare you that."  
A new silence fell between them, in which Poland looked away uncomfortably. East Germany eventually decided to just ask the one question burning in his mind now. "Was it about… _him_?" There came no response, not in the form of words, but Poland narrowed his eyes when East said this. That alone was enough for the younger nation to know he had been right. He sighed. "I've been through the same thing, you know?" he said in a very soft whisper.  
Now, Poland glanced at him. "Then you should know that I don't want to talk about it," he whispered back, more sharply. "Especially not to _you_. Just go back to bed and leave me alone." When East protested, the blond nation stiffened in frustration, but fear flashed in his eyes once more. "I just can't stand knowing that he's still out there, all right?" he grumbled softly, turning his back on East. He raised his shoulders a little defensively. "They should have captured him and executed him in the most gruesome manner in existence, but instead… Instead, _he's out there_ , somewhere, maybe continuing his sick experiments on more innocent people and…" He trailed off.  
East bit his lip for a moment, feeling his blood freeze over now that he was reminded of this fact. "I hate it, too," he eventually sighed. "God knows I have revisited that room far too many times in dreams or even in random episodes of panic attacks… I understand what you're saying." He averted his gaze then, glancing over the sleeping forms of the other nations. "Look, Poland, facts are facts. I don't like you and you don't like me, but in this, we might be the only ones who can really understand each other. So, much as I hate to say it… If you ever need to talk it off, well… I'm here, anyway."  
Poland snorted then, still with his back turned to East. "Sure, thanks," he replied sarcastically. "I'll never take you up on that. Now just go back to bed, shut up and sleep."  
East sat there in silence for a moment longer, then pushed himself to his feet again, stumbling back to his own bed. He was only halfway when he heard one last whisper: "But then, to be honest… I'm kind of, like… grateful, I suppose. So… Thanks, I guess."  
East didn't reply anymore, only smiled a little as he went back into bed.

* * *

The following morning had a few slightly awkward moments, with Poland doing anything in his power, it seemed, to avoid looking at East. Then there was Russia, who seemed particularly uneasy. East Germany simply tried not to pay attention to either of them during breakfast, but almost immediately after that, it was made impossible for him to ignore Russia. The taller nation called him over, his expression somewhat grim.  
"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Russia asked him softly when East stood in front of him. "Something happened yesterday that you need to know."  
East's heart skipped a beat, wondering what it was. He didn't dare ask. Was it something he'd done? Was it something with his people? Or, worse… Had something happened to West? It felt as if something was clenched around his heart as Russia grabbed him by the wrist and gently pulled him along, away from the others. They went into the first office room they came across, which belonged to Latvia, Lithuania and Poland, and Russia quickly locked the door behind them.  
At this, East felt even more anxious, but he said nothing. He did, however, keep his distance from Russia and watched him through narrowed eyes, cautious.  
Russia sighed deeply. "I'm sorry that I can only tell you this after it's happened, but…" He trailed off for a moment as if he still wasn't sure how to word this. "Yesterday, the inner German border was closed. It will be more heavily guarded from now on and traveling from one side of the border to the other will be restricted."  
Before he could say anything else, East stiffened, his eyes wide and blazing with fury. "You did _what?!_ " he roared. His rage welled up too quickly for him to suppress. Shaking where he stood, the albino tried to control himself at least somewhat. "You closed the border? What gives you the _right?_ "  
"We didn't!" Russia tried to defend himself, but in vain. "It was your own government who made the choice."  
"Yeah, and whose puppets are my so-called 'government' again?" East retorted angrily. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to restrain himself much longer. "It's _you_ who don't want my people to get in touch with the western world!" he went on, yelling at the top of his voice. "It's _you_ who do everything you can to discourage capitalism among my people and take away their freedom!"  
Russia shook his head. "If you'd listen, East-! There's a good reason for all this."  
"What _reason_ is there for any of this?!" East roared, lunging for one of the books that he saw stacked onto a desk. He snatched it and threw it with amazing speed, aiming at Russia's face. The Russian could only barely avoid being hit. "What reason do you have for keeping us here in the first place? If you had allowed me to go home, I might still have gone to West Berlin and seen Ludwig!" Panic choked him in that instant, and distraught, he threw another book at Russia. Tears blurred his vision as he screeched: " _NOW I'LL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN!_ "  
He had come to terms with knowing that he wouldn't ever see his little brother again, until he had been given hope. He still remembered Hungary's promises that she would arrange something years ago, when East had been sick and on death's doorstep. He had been allowed to write to West a few times, but he could count the letters he'd written since coming here on one hand. A letter a year.  
Now the border was closed. He wasn't going to cross it, West wasn't going to cross it, and now not even couriers would be able to cross the border anymore. How was he going to have contact with his little brother now?  
Russia flinched and stumbled back when a flying book finally hit him squarely in the face. East Germany, too, was startled now. He had wanted to hurt Russia, but he hadn't expected he actually would. When Russia looked up at him with rage in his eyes, the older nation felt his stomach twist.  
He saw it coming a second before it happened: Russia finally retaliated, standing right in front of East in just two quick steps and landing a hard punch in his face. East lost his balance, stumbling against the desk he stood beside. Instantly, Russia grabbed him by the shoulders and forcefully pushed him down onto the desk. In that motion, East felt something crack in his back, and he breathed in sharply.  
In that awkward and painful angle, East couldn't move, held down by a clearly agitated Russia. " _I said_ , East," Russia snapped, "if you'd _listen to me_ , maybe you would realise there's no need for violence." When East tried to free himself despite knowing better, Russia pushed down harder, his purplish-blue eyes narrowed in irritation. "Ah-ah!" he corrected the albino nation then, reminding East of the intimidating, downright scary Russian he had always seemed to be. "Be nice now, East, and I'll tell you why the border's closed. If you struggle, I'm going to have to hurt you. Clearly that's the only way to get some sense into you."  
It was as if East had pulled every muscle in his lower back, and he just gritted his teeth in pain and stayed put. If Russia really believed he could make this right with some words, let him try. It wasn't going to work.  
Russia's gaze was cold as he spoke. "It was done for _you_ , East," he said bluntly. "For you and your people. Don't you think everyone's noticed by now that you're not doing so well anymore?" He sighed for a moment and shrugged, looking totally indifferent about it for some reason. "You were sick, you got better, now your health is going bad again. And you know why that is, right?"  
 _Because the economy isn't getting any better,_ East almost answered, restraining himself just in time. _Which, mind you, is your fault for denying my economy that boost that America offered._ But then, would that 'boost' really have helped him? The last time America had given financial support, it had nearly killed both East and West. In that respect, the Russians might have done him and his people a favour. If they came out of this mess, they would do so on their own strength, and no one would be able to drag them down.  
Blinking once, Russia went on explaining. "You're not getting any better at this rate," he said. "Neither is your economy. Why? Simply because you're losing people every day." Something hardened in his gaze, an anger and disdain taking over. "All those fools going to the west… Who would want a government that doesn't care about its people, doesn't care about preserving their equality and well-being?" Russia scoffed. "Meanwhile, they're leaving their fellow countrymen here to starve at the rate things are going. If you would have too few people to keep the government running, what do you think would happen? The entire economy -and then the entire nation- would collapse within months."  
Russia then stood up straight again, releasing East, who stayed down anyway, just in a slightly different position so that his back wouldn't hurt anymore. The tall nation had his gaze fixed on the wall instead of East as he spoke. "You said you would never see your little brother anymore now?" He huffed for a moment. "Wrong. This is exactly how you will get the chance to see him again, East. If all those people leave the country and leave your economy to crumble, where would you be? I don't feel like having to plan a funeral anytime soon, you know. Even if the economy wouldn't kill you, the loss of so many people would leave you severely anaemic, and we can't have any of that, either. If you want to survive long enough to see West Germany again, you'll have to close your borders and keep your people in."  
East was speechless. It actually did make sense. He didn't want to admit it, but it _did_. He had been feeling well until about a year ago, when the mass-emigration of his people caught up with him. He knew that it was a problem that his people all went to the west. A massive problem. He hadn't thought about it quite like this yet, though. He hadn't wanted to.  
No, after listening to Russia, he understood. This wasn't to cut him off from his little brother. It wasn't to deny his people a functioning government and a functioning economy. It was to preserve all those things, so that the nation wouldn't be destroyed through emigration.  
It was to save East's life.  
Realising this, the albino pushed himself up, flinching for a moment but ignoring the pain after that. Wide-eyed and lost for words, he stared at Russia, who still refused to look at him. East was trembling lightly, feeling guilty now for being so angry at Russia. Even if it _hadn't_ been in his best interest, the nation realised that, once again, Russia had nothing to do with any of this. He knew that the only ones able to close his borders were the people in his own government. Whether they were pressured by the Soviet Union or not, it didn't matter: Russia was innocent.  
East tentatively approached Russia. The younger nation gave no response, didn't even show any signs that he noticed East. "I-I'm sorry," East Germany brought out softly, not sure if this was going to do any good at all, or if it would only make things worse. "I… I should have listened to you."  
"Yes," Russia answered sharply. "You really should get into the habit of doing that more often."  
Even more ashamed now, East lowered his gaze. "I know… Old habits die hard, I suppose." He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and looked up again. "Thank you, Ivan."  
Russia turned to look at him then, surprised.  
"Thank you for telling me this," East elaborated, a bit more confident about this now that he saw that Russia wasn't angry at him anymore. Not for thanking him, anyway. "And I know it's likely not so, but if you did have anything to do with this… Thank you for trying to save my life."  
Much to his surprise, Russia smiled a little at this. "Of course," he said, all anger gone from his voice. "I wouldn't let you die, and I wouldn't let your people suffer. We're communists, after all: we look after one another. That's what we're all about." He chuckled for a moment. "I would let Marx and Lenin down if I didn't see everyone as my equals and treated them as such. And I promise you, East, the people who stay behind will have it much better than those who have left." He smiled fully now, making the last slivers of East's anxiety fade away in an instant. "After all, doesn't this household function smoothly? It might take a little more time, but soon, all communist countries will run as smoothly as we do. We're supposed to be exemplary of how things should be, you know? And in my humble opinion, I think we're all an _excellent_ example for others to follow."  
East managed a soft chuckle now, too. "I guess so! We barely ever fight anymore, and I think even Poland and I might actually get along someday." Feeling more at ease now, East gave a determined nod. "Honestly, I thought this was never going to work out, or that I would feel like a prisoner in here, but none of that is true. I actually really enjoy knowing exactly what to do every day: it's so much easier like this. I always got my work done, of course, but I have to admit I could be a bit chaotic at times. Living like this solves that problem."  
As East was talking, Russia's eyes lit up, and by the end of it, the younger nation looked overjoyed. "I'm really glad you're beginning to understand, East!" He sounded almost like an excited child. "I don't know why, but our way of life is so often misunderstood… It's their loss for not seeing the benefits to living in equality. But if you're really beginning to understand… If you really agree that this is how society should be…" He looked almost too touched to say anything else.  
East couldn't help but smile along with him. All those years he'd spent basically living in fear of Russia, thinking that he was creepy or intimidating or just plain weird. When Russia was happy and excited like this, he was quite the opposite. East tried to avoid thinking the word, but eventually it managed to pop into his head anyway. If he had to be brutally honest, when Russia was like this, he could actually look _cute._  
There. He'd thought it.  
Facts were facts, though. Russia could be like a child at times, and children could be adorable. There was no way around it.  
As East was busy trying to drive out that train of thought again, another idea suddenly came to him, warming his heart. "Maybe West will see the light, too," he mused, more to himself than to Russia. "When America lets him down again like he did last time, maybe he'll convert to communism, too. And if he does…" He looked up at Russia then. "Could he come here, too?"  
Russia was silent for a moment, then smiled reassuringly. "If he changes his mind for the better indeed," he promised then, "of course he'll be welcome here."

* * *

"Aster! No!" West could only watch as the energetic dog ran up to a woman walking further down the street. Thankfully, the human only laughed and greeted Aster warmly like she did so often. With an exasperated sigh, West walked up to them, gaze fixed on his dog. "Aster," he said sharply once he was closer. " _Sit."_  
Immediately, Aster sat down, quietly wagging his tail. The woman chuckled and gave him a soft pat on the head. "Good boy, Aster," she cooed, scratching him behind the ears and in his neck. Aster wagged his tail even harder, but he stayed down. The human smiled as she looked up at West. "I see the training is going well?"  
Was she serious, or was that sarcastic? West couldn't tell for a moment, so he just hummed. Training Aster did go pretty well, if he had to be honest. The dog listened to him very well, he just got excited when he saw people he liked. He was still only two years old, so West had plenty of time left to train that out of him, too. At least the jumping on people part, anyway.  
The woman -one of West's neighbours- gave Aster a final pat on the head, then looked up at the nation again. The joy that had been visible in her eyes moments ago was gone now, and she had a doubtful frown. "Did you hear what happened?" she asked softly. "Apparently, the East German government has increased security around the inner border. A shopkeeper told me about it this morning."  
West was dumbfounded when he heard this. "They closed the border?" he choked out. "A-are you sure?" Why hadn't he heard about this before now? Usually he would hear news such as this long before anyone else would. But then, the East German government wasn't his, so naturally they wouldn't relay any such news to him.  
The human sighed and shrugged. "Well, it's just what I heard," she mumbled in response. "I don't know if it really is true or not. I sure hope it's not, though." A long, uncomfortable silence then fell, and eventually the woman said a quick, polite goodbye and went on her way again.  
Stunned with shock, West remained where he stood for a moment, his mind reeling and at the same time without thinking at all. Why would the border close? What reason did they have? And _why_ hadn't he heard of this before?  
Feeling a little shaky, West went on his way home again, Aster walking calmly by his side.

Once inside, West's eyes fell on an envelope that must have arrived while he'd been out walking with Aster. His heart skipped a beat with dread. Maybe this was from the government, a message about the thing with the border? But no, it wasn't. The young nation was surprised to find the return address on the envelope was in Venice. Curious, he opened the letter immediately.

 _Buongiorno Germany,_

 _Sorry if this letter comes as an unpleasant surprise. I just thought it might be nice to get in touch again. It's been years since we last spoke, after all. In case you're wondering, I got your address from France.  
I hope you're not still angry about what happened in the last years of the war. Don't worry, I've long since forgiven you for that fight we had. I suppose I would have reacted in a similar way. Why didn't you tell anyone that you were so worried about Prussia? We might have been able to help.  
But enough of that. The reason I wrote to you is that I would like to know how you would feel if I came for a visit sometime. Or perhaps you could come to Venice, if you'd like. Romano doesn't really feel like coming along, I must say, but that was to be expected. I don't know why he's so stubborn.  
Maybe we could try to rebuild our friendship someday? I would really like that, anyway. I know I've been snappy with you sometimes, but it really wasn't anything personal, even if it may not have looked that way.  
Well… Just let me know what you think, and maybe we can arrange something soon? If you don't want to, that's all right. I'd understand._

 _Saluti,  
Italia Veneziano_

West Germany had to read the letter several times before he could truly grasp it. Italy Veneziano had sent him a letter? He wanted to see him again? For just a moment, the thought filled West with warmth and hope, driving away even his anxiety over the inner border being closed off. Within seconds, however, that hope turned into uncertainty. Veneziano mentioned maybe rebuilding their friendship. While he would love that of course, West wasn't sure if they even could. It had been so long since the two nations had been as amicable as they had once been. In fact, after the First World War, things had already not been as they had been before that, when West had been a child. It had been close during their alliance in the previous war, but not exactly.  
Considering this, was it even possible for them to restore their friendship at all? With everything that had happened? What if they couldn't?  
But then, it was worth the try. He would write a response later today.  
First, he had other things on his mind.  
"Aster, you stay put, all right?" West said to his dog, kneeling down in front of him and running his fingers through his thick, soft fur. "I'm going away for a few hours. Guard the house, and please don't break anything this time."  
Aster didn't make any sound, only blinked once. He wagged his tail when he was petted again, then lay down when West stood up. His dark brown gaze followed the nation as he went out, but the dog did as he had been told and stayed exactly where he was.

* * *

"I'm not entirely sure either, Ludwig," the president, Heuss, sighed when his nation demanded information about the inner border. "The East has sent more guards to the border and restricted travel. That's all I can tell you at the moment." He looked West in the eyes then, his calm gaze betraying only the slightest distress over the situation. "We're trying to get more information as we speak. I'll let you know when I know more, I promise."  
"But isn't there anything we can do about this?" West insisted, wishing his president would see some sense. They couldn't just allow for that border to be closed. They may have been split up, but the West Germans and the East Germans were still the same people. They shouldn't be cut off from each other like this.  
But also, West Germany didn't even dare to think about how difficult it would be from now on to contact his brother. They barely ever had the chance to write to each other. In fact, going by the lack of response, West was fairly certain at least half of the letters he sent didn't even reach his brother in the first place. How was he going to stay in contact with East now?  
If only East was allowed to come to Berlin. After all, West and East Berlin weren't fully closed off from one another; they might be able to see each other and speak to each other here.  
Heuss seemed to understand that it wasn't really for his people that this news affected West Germany so much. "It'll be all right, Ludwig," he assured the young nation. "We'll try to find out more about this as soon as we can, and we'll ask for an update on how Gilbert is doing while we're at it. But you should go home now," he then added. "There's nothing that you can do about any of this. Just go home, take some time to wrap your head around this."  
West Germany shook his head, gritting his teeth. "I can't," he protested stubbornly. "Somehow, we have to get my brother back. This… This is going too far." He didn't know how they would do it, but somehow they had to. East couldn't stay there any longer. In the few letters he had received from his elder brother, East had always stated that he was fine, that things weren't as bad as West probably thought they were. But if that was true, why hadn't he been allowed to come home yet? If Russia really wasn't a bad person, why did he still keep East Germany -and everyone else- prisoner in Moscow without letting them contact their family and friends? None of it added up.  
Five years. It had been five years since West and East had last seen each other. How much longer would this go on? Would they really be separated for the rest of their lives? They couldn't be. Even after everything they'd done, that would be too cruel. Both of them had suffered enough for their mistakes by now. Would it never end?  
But his president couldn't help. He knew that now. Feeling empty, West just sighed and mumbled a goodbye before turning away. He felt as if his feet were dragging with each step even though they weren't, and the hallways all seemed twice as long.  
The economy might be getting stronger. The people might be growing happier and healthier again. He might have Aster by his side now. Even so, West Germany knew that life would never be back to normal until he had his elder brother with him again.  
The closing of the inner border was another step towards making that dream impossible to ever come true.

* * *

" _Ow!_ Shit, can't you be a little more careful?"  
"Oh, don't whine, Gil. Be glad I'm doing this for you in the first place."  
East folded his hands into fists and clenched his jaws tightly when Hungary's fingertips pressed against his sore muscles again. Two days after his fight with Russia, his back was still paying the price: there was a long, blue-and-purple line over the width of his lower back, a large bruise from slamming into the desk. He had also sprained a number of muscles there, just as he'd thought.  
Hungary had offered to try a massage, to see if that would loosen up his muscles, but the pain in them combined with the bruise she had to press onto only served to hurt him even more.  
Meanwhile, Romania was watching from a little distance, inspecting the bruises and also Hungary's handiwork, which he criticised every few seconds, of course. "Yes, well, you're doing it wrong again," he sighed when East inhaled sharply at a particularly strong jolt of pain. "Don't _pull_ his muscles. Russia has already done that, and I doubt he'll like it if you make it worse."  
"Oh, and you know so much about this, then?!" Hungary snapped, glaring at her long-time enemy. "Do you really think I've never massaged sprained muscles before?" She huffed and went back to work, but she was clearly agitated: East could feel it when she was more rough with his poor back than before.  
"A-actually, Lizzie," he croaked, tensing up at this. "This one time, I'll have to agree with Romania…"  
Hungary immediately let go of him, standing up with an indignant scoff. "Fine then! Romania, it's your turn. If you can do so much better, why not prove it?" East hated hearing the anger in her voice, knowing that she felt offended, but he wasn't sad to know that she wouldn't touch his back anymore.  
Romania snickered for a moment. "Sure. Watch and learn, little girl." He sat on his knees beside East Germany then, very carefully pressing his fingers against his bruised skin. He put only slight pressure on him as he began to slowly rub circles on his muscles. East stiffened at first, but within seconds he relaxed again with a deep sigh. The large bruise still hurt, but his muscles were definitely enjoying this soft, circular motion. A lot, even.  
After a few minutes, Romania stopped again, by which time East barely felt any pain anymore. With a proud smirk, the Romanian looked at Hungary. "See?" he said mockingly. "I fixed up Russia's mess _and_ yours."  
Hungary retorted angrily, and as the two nations argued once again (the others were all beginning to believe it was their hobby), East Germany sat up. Moving like that, he did feel a slight stab of pain in his back now, but he was fairly certain he would at least be able to walk without feeling like an eighty-year-old anymore.  
He was glad he had been able to settle his little fight with Russia so quickly and also without getting more seriously hurt. He wondered if Russia realised that not everything East had said to soothe his anger had been true.  
Sure, communism wasn't too bad, not nearly as bad as he had thought it would be, but it certainly wasn't as good as he had pretended that day. He really disliked the schedules there were every day. They left very little room for other things such as hobbies or even the occasional necessary things like this: East had barely been able to do his work normally with the pain in his back. Hungary had asked for permission to help him and Romania just so happened to have finished his work early.  
There were no surprises in life anymore now, aside from what happened back home. Every day was the same boring routine. Even the food was bland and uncreative, being the same every week for a few weeks until moving on to the next weekly schedule.  
If he had to be completely truthful, East Germany didn't dislike this life at all, but he would enjoy it a lot more if he could make his own choices and if he could just do what he wanted from time to time. The biggest lie he'd said that day was that he wanted West Germany here with him. Of course he wanted nothing more than to be with his little brother again, but he wouldn't want it to be here. He just wanted to go _home_ , to Berlin, spend time with his precious brother and live his life.  
Romania and Hungary stopped their squabbling, finally, when East stood and stretched a little. "And?" Romania asked curiously. "How does it feel?"  
"Much better, thanks," East replied, smiling gratefully. He turned to Hungary, flashing her a warm smile, too. "You, too, of course. Thanks for giving it a try -and for asking Russia for that break!"  
Hungary smiled back at him. "No problem, buddy," she said with a chuckle. "It was starting to become painful even to _watch_ you, Gil. Just don't get into any more fights," she added teasingly, giving him a gentle nudge.  
East smirked at this, pushing her away carefully. "I'll _try_ , but I can't make any promises. It's Russia, after all. And let's not forget Poland also lives here."  
"How did you get out of it so well in the first place?" Romania asked, staring at him in amazement. "If I could get out of a fight with Russia with only bruises and sprained muscles, hell, I would be a lot more rebellious than I am!"  
East shrugged. "It's not that difficult," he answered, looking at the other nation. "If you tell him exactly what he wants to hear, he'll be all happy and giddy about it and he'll forgive you in an instant." His lips twisting into a grin, he added: "As for what he wants to hear: praise communism and you're done."  
Hungary sighed at this. "So basically, if you lie to him, he'll leave you alone." She hummed and frowned, looking doubtful. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at East with a slightly worried gaze. "Gil, I don't know if that's such a good idea. Sure, it's okay so long as he doesn't know you were lying, but if he finds out…"  
"By the time he finds out, I'll be long gone," East countered with a confident grin. He then turned his stare to the window, looking at the sky. The window frame looked like prison bars to him in that moment. And it was a prison he would get out of. "Now that the border has been closed, I'm only more certain that I won't stay here all this time. They can't make me, not Russia, nor anyone else. I don't know how, but I will go home again. I _will_ see Ludwig again."  
One of these days, he would leave and never come back here. He wasn't sure how he would make it to the border and past it, but there had to be a way. Still, this was yet another situation in which he wished he didn't have albinism: if he had blond or brown hair or literally anything that wasn't white, if his entire appearance wasn't so darned unique and hard to disguise, it would be far easier to smuggle himself over the border. A few hundred years ago, too, this would have been much easier, without border control like there was now. Back before passports were a thing, life had been so much easier, in a way. More difficult in many other ways, sure, but escaping the country had been easier.  
But even if he got out of Russia, through Poland and into East Germany, how would he make it to the West? He certainly had a lot of thinking left to do before he could do anything worthwhile. But do it he would. Somehow. Someday.

* * *

West Germany took a deep breath and stepped up to the checkpoint. It was one of the many legal passages between East Germany and West Berlin, guarded day and night. However, since recently it had become impossible to go from West Berlin to East Germany without a permit, which West didn't have. Still, while he was waiting to get his hands on one of those, he could still give this a try.  
"Aster, behave yourself now," he said in a soft voice, looking down at the brown dog by his side. Aster made no noise at all, only looked up at West with a calm, dark gaze. West met his gaze for a moment, then turned back to the checkpoint, approaching it with a steady pace and his head held high.  
"Halt!" The guard on duty had his gaze fixed on West as the nation approached him. "I'll have to see your identification papers and permit, sir." His gaze and expression were even as he stared at West.  
West quietly took his passport out of his chest pocket. He knew that just a passport wasn't enough to cross this border, but his clearly stated that he was a nation, which usually gave him certain privileges humans wouldn't have. Such as having authority over most civil servants.  
The human quietly took the nation's passport and inspected it. After a few seconds, his eyes widened just the slightest, and he promptly handed the papers back to West. "I'm afraid you're not allowed to go into East Germany, sir," the guard stated, his voice wavering a little, something which he soon corrected. "I assume you've got no permit, either?"  
"I do not," West answered tensely. "Not yet, anyway. But do you really think I would need one, considering I'm the personification of West Germany?" He tried to keep calm as much as he could, but all this was already getting on his nerves.  
The guard shrugged. "No, I don't think you need one," he answered, completely indifferent again. "After all, even if you did have one, you wouldn't be allowed to cross." West was beginning to protest, but the human quickly silenced him when he explained: "Sir, we all received clear instructions that nations aren't supposed to cross this border. That is, East and West Germany aren't allowed to do so."  
"What nonsense is that?" West then demanded, getting seriously agitated. Beside him, Aster let out a low growl. "I just so happen to need to go to the East for business. Are you telling me you're not going to let me do my work?"  
"Well, I too am only doing my work, sir."  
Aster growled a little more loudly. At this, the human stared down at the dog, narrowing his eyes. "Keep that mutt under control," he grumbled in annoyance. "And please leave. Unless you have proof that you need to and are allowed to cross the border, you're not leaving the city other than by a direct train to the West."  
West Germany stared at the man a few seconds longer, then decided it was useless to stay here. "Aster, come. We're going." Without another word to the human, West spun around and walked away, seething with anger.  
He had never tried before simply because there was nothing for him in East Germany so long as his brother wasn't out of Moscow, but now that he knew he wasn't even allowed into the country, he was furious. He realised that the only way he would see his brother now was for him to go to Moscow. The only way to do that was through East Germany.  
Of course, if he knew that, other did, too. And they had made sure he wouldn't be able to use that route.  
Suddenly he felt something press against his legs, and he looked down to see Aster leaning against him as they walked. West stopped, and a second later, so did the animal, staring up at his owner with a questioning look in his eyes. With a sigh, West knelt down in front of him, holding his head in both hands. "We'll get there, Aster," he said softly, running his fingers through the dog's thick, soft fur. "It's about time you met my brother."

* * *

"Hey, East."  
East Germany looked up from the papers he had been working on. He was alone in his shared office, and the door had just opened behind him. He had expected Estonia, Romania or Bulgaria to walk in, since they used this office also, but it was Poland's voice he heard.  
Poland stood in the doorway, staring at East with a strange look in his eyes. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he walked in, closing the door behind him. The blond nation walked up to East and leant on his desk. "Hey, uh," he said quietly, almost cautiously. "I heard something just now that you might be interested in."  
East blinked at him in confusion, pushing his glasses straight. "And you need to be so secretive about it?" He didn't understand any of this. It was nearly dinnertime and everyone was already waiting, except East had decided to first finish up this work first. Had Poland specifically waited until he could be alone with East? But why?  
Poland glanced around for a moment. "Well, yes, actually." He then sat down on the edge of the desk. "It's not exactly something for everyone to hear, after all." He was quiet for another moment, hesitating, then he leant in closer to East. "Now don't assume it's all true, because it might not be, but if what I heard is right… Well…"  
"Well _what?_ " East really had no time for any of this if he wanted to finish his work before dinner. If what Poland had to say was so important, he had better hurry up.  
The older nation wasn't fazed by East's impatience. He went on with the same calm, but a slight smile on his lips when he spoke. "You know I went with Russia today? Well, I overheard something I shouldn't have."  
 _Just hurry it up!  
_ East's heart skipped a beat when Poland finally decided to tell him. "If what I heard is true, you'll be allowed to go to Berlin in a few months."  
Suddenly it was as if there was nothing else in the world but that one sentence. You'll be allowed to go to Berlin in a few months. If that was true… If he really could go home…  
"Y-you're not joking, are you?" He could actually imagine Poland to do such a thing.  
Except he didn't. Poland shook his head. "I would lie to you about many things, you know," he said with a shrug. "But not this. I'm not _that_ cruel, even if it's you." Averting his gaze uncomfortably, he added: "And, well, I suppose I should, like, repay you for waking me from that shitty nightmare a couple of nights ago. I mean, it was… Let's just say it wasn't a nice one." He stood up from the desk and walked towards the door, but he didn't leave before looking over his shoulder at East with a defiant look in his eyes. "So I've repaid you and that's the end of it, all right? We're not going to talk about any of it ever again."  
East could only nod, speechless. Joy and warmth filled his entire body and mind.  
He might actually be going home soon.  
 _Ludwig… I'm coming home._

* * *

 **So that's it for this one. I'm not sure anymore if I mentioned it in this chapter, but this was 1952.  
**

 **I based Aster's behaviour on my neighbour's dog: young thing (also 2 years old) and very well trained, until she sees someone she likes. If that someone is me, well... She will pull on the leash or do literally anything necessary to get to me (and I don't even like dogs that much... whoops)  
Germany's neighbour is like that for Aster. If he sees her, he runs up to her, no hesitation. Otherwise very well trained.  
And the growling at the guard thing is based on how dogs pick up emotions from people, and if their human gets angry, so does the dog.** **Not sure if that's true, but I read it somewhere once...**

 **Anyways, hope for the brothers! I promise not to brutally crush it and laugh at them as I do it. You have my word.**

 **So thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!**


	42. Chapter 42

**(I'm doing this for the fourth time now... Somehow I couldn't edit the document .)**

 **Anyways, I'm back with chapter 42~!** **Chapter 43 and onward will have to wait a little while, though: I'm leaving tomorrow with no access to my laptop for two weeks, as I mentioned, so unfortunately I cannot write unless it's on paper. Which I cannot upload, of course.**

 **Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and/or followed! You're all still as awesome as ever and brighten my days!**

 **I hope you'll appreciate what I did in this chapter!**

* * *

"So that's the border?" Veneziano was gazing through the streets at the armed guards patrolling the border between the two halves of the city.  
West nodded with a soft sigh. "It's the only part of East Germany that I'm allowed to enter anymore," he said, half to himself. "I tried to cross from East Berlin into the rest of the country, but they won't let me pass. By now, the guards stare at me whenever I go into East Berlin, too."  
Veneziano frowned at this. "That's crazy." The small nation then gave West a gentle tug on his sleeve, leading him away from the border.  
The two nations had reconciled seven months ago. West had gone to Vienna and Veneziano had come, too. They had talked about things there, sometimes with, sometimes without Austria, and soon they had become good friends like they once had been. This time, they didn't even have their occasional fights anymore like back then. Since that first meeting after the war, West had gone to Venice once, and this was Veneziano's first visit to Berlin.  
West had tried several times to get into East Germany over the past year, and by now he was ready to give up. Sadly he watched the people in East Berlin. How could that be another country? How were they not the same as the people in this side of the city? He would never understand.  
"I'm sure things will be solved someday, Ludwig," Veneziano said reassuringly, giving the taller nation a friendly nudge. "It can't stay like this forever."  
"That's what everyone has been telling me since it started," West mumbled in response, looking away. "Yet here we are, six years later, and it's only getting worse."  
Veneziano was quiet for a moment, pondering, then he stated: "You know, I understand that it might be different for you, since you're still so young, but… In a nation's life, six years isn't much. For personal stuff, yeah, I guess it is. But for international developments like these, six years is only a short time."  
 _So what you're saying,_ West thought bleakly, _is that all this is going to last a while longer yet._ He looked down at Veneziano after this, his gaze blank. "Was that supposed to make me feel better…?" He didn't quite get why the older nation had said something like that.  
Veneziano smiled sheepishly. "Uh… Honestly, I have no idea!" he stammered with a nervous laugh. The older nation then apologised softly, only to break off in the middle of his sentence when Aster began pulling on the leash. Veneziano chuckled for a moment. "I think someone is telling us he wants to get moving again."  
At this, West also managed a smile, and together with Veneziano and Aster, he continued walking along the border before they would head home again.

* * *

"…and if we go into that street, we should be back within fifteen minutes or so," West explained, nodding to a street to their left before turning back to look at Veneziano. To his surprise, the older nation didn't seem to listen at all, instead staring wide-eyed in the other direction. West only looked at him in confusion. "Veneziano? What's the matter?" He followed the Italian's gaze then.  
At first he saw nothing out of the ordinary: just a bunch of people, both in the West Berlin side of the streets and in the East Berlin side. Then he spotted one person who stood out: his messy white hair was the first thing West noticed among all the others, his ghostly white skin the second. Although he couldn't see it from this distance, West knew that his searching gaze, flicking from one spot to another as he walked almost cautiously, was a bright red with just the tiniest hints of blue in it.  
It was as if time stopped in that instant, and the young nation felt frozen to the core as he watched this man. For a moment he thought he was dreaming. Then he realised he wasn't, and was instead probably hallucinating. But then, Veneziano saw the same person, so he must be real. Couldn't be, though. It was probably just another man with albinism, who just so happened to still have his sight intact to the point he only needed to wear glasses instead of being blind altogether. The same glasses that _he_ wore. And with the same features, the same posture, the same manner as he made his way across the street. It just _couldn't be him._  
But it was.  
East was glancing around, a little unsure, as if he was searching for something. When his eyes trailed over West and Veneziano, he stopped moving, staring at the two nations with the same stunned gaze they had. The albino nation recovered from this fairly quickly, smiling wide as he made his way through the many people, gently nudging a few humans aside as he ran to his little brother and old friend. East nearly barged into two people walking side by side, and he stumbled back with an apologetic grin before dashing past them.  
By then, West had regained the ability to move, too, his feet moving without him even realising it. When his brother was just a few steps away from him, he braced himself, knowing he would need to if he didn't want to be thrown to the street. Seconds later, East slammed into him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.  
"Ludwig!" East cried out, clinging to his little brother. He sounded as if he was laughing and crying at the same time. "I-I found you… Thank God…!" He chuckled for a moment, leaning back and staring West in the eyes. "I almost forgot what a large city this is! It took me days, you know? I-I've been going up and down the border every single day the past week, hoping to find you, and… And now…!"  
West couldn't answer. Instead, he just held his brother tightly, still certain he was dreaming. If he was, at least it was a wonderful dream. His heart was racing, thumping against his ribs almost painfully fast. His brother was here. But how? And why? And he had been in Berlin for a week without West knowing about it? How come they hadn't seen each other before now? West felt dizzy from all the questions buzzing in his head, but mostly he just felt happy. Ecstatic.  
A loud noise alerted him, and East actually jumped, startled when Aster began barking loudly. Both German nations stared at the dog, East in astonishment and just the slightest spark of fear when the large animal bared its teeth at him. At the same time, West knelt down in front of Aster and shushed him quickly. "It's all right, boy, it's okay. He's my brother. He's okay, there's no need to bark."  
After a moment of silence, East laughed nervously. "W-well, hello there," he stammered, red eyes wide as he looked down at Aster, who was calming down but still looked like he wasn't too fond of the newcomer. "W-who's this fellow here?"  
West whispered to the dog one last time, satisfied when he sat down after that. Heaving himself back to his feet, he looked at East. He still couldn't believe his brother was back so suddenly. "This is Aster," he explained with a smile. "A gift from Austria three years ago. Don't worry, he's usually not like this, and he does warm up to people very quickly."  
East chuckled again, taking a step away from the large dog. "An Austrian dog, eh?" he laughed softly. "Well, that explains a lot." He then leant down just a little bit, smiling sheepishly. "Err… Thanks for ruining the moment, I guess?" He jumped back when Aster growled, leaning over to West instead. "Do you think he knows I'm not a dog person?"  
West couldn't help but laugh for a moment. "You startled him, more like it," he answered, shaking his head. "That, and you did sort of tackle me; he's quite protective." He silenced himself then and looked down at his pet. "Aster, cut it out." Almost immediately after this, Aster was quiet again, although he kept his gaze fixed on East.  
East was already looking at his little brother again, his red eyes warm and bright. "You know," he said softly, smiling wide. "This… kind of feels like a dream."  
West nodded. "It does, doesn't it?" He stared his brother in the eyes for a moment longer, searching for any sign that it wasn't true after all, that he _was_ dreaming. It wasn't there. Feeling a rush of warmth, he swung his arms around East and held him close. "Goddammit, I thought I would never see you again!"  
"Same here," East replied in a whisper, sighing softly. "But then, didn't I tell you that it wouldn't be forever?"  
West gave a short nod, holding his brother just a little closer before letting go of him again. "How are you even here right now?" he asked, still confused. His head was spinning from all this, which made him even more glad that he had his brother to hold on to. "I… I thought Russia wasn't going to let you go at all…"  
East grinned at this. "Well, now that Stalin is dead, our governments need us at home for a little while," he explained with a shrug. "To help them maintain order, they said. I will have to go back to Moscow once my job here is done, mind you, but if my blasted headaches are any sign, I don't think that will be anytime soon." The albino laughed for a moment. "Honestly, I want my people to start behaving again! Yet, I don't want them to ever put an end to the chaos at all! It's kind of confusing." His smile turned into a grimace for just a few seconds. "If only there was a way for there to be discord without it causing headaches all the time… Oh well. I guess you can't have everything, right?"  
West Germany felt a stab of disappointment when he heard that his brother would have to leave again, but he pushed it away. East was here now, and he wasn't leaving yet. They would have to make the most of it while they could. The young nation glanced over his shoulder at Veneziano, who was watching everything quietly from a slight distance, then he turned back to East. "We were just about to go home," West said warmly. "Will you come with us?"

* * *

East glanced around the room a little when West brought him into his living room. It wasn't big, but it was the perfect size for one man and his dog, and maybe the occasional visitor. One thing that East noticed immediately were the shelves along the walls, books neatly lined up on them. He smiled at this: his little brother had truly inherited his love for books, that much was clear. A few seconds later, he realised that some of these books were his old journals. He wasn't quite sure how to feel about them being lined up for everyone to see, but then, West was likely on his own most of the time. And no one could read books by looking at their covers, after all. Easing his mind with this, he only felt happy that West had put effort into preserving them.  
The rest of the room was neat and tidy, just like the bookshelves. West obviously spent quite some time on cleaning. This made East huff with silent laughter. Another trait they shared, then, even after being split up. He had known all this, of course, but after being apart for so long, it felt surprisingly good to see it with his own eyes.  
"You've got a nice place here, Ludwig," East commented eventually, as he and the other two nations sat down. "Really nice. I'm glad the Allies managed to get you this house; it looks exactly right for you."  
West smiled and nodded. "It is. I wasn't too enthusiastic at first, but I'm happy they did it, anyway. I can't imagine still having to live at the Cecilienhof."  
"He's even turned the basement into a guest room!" Veneziano put in with a huge grin. One that faded quickly when he seemed to realise something important. "Oh…" He sighed, frowning pensively. "But I'm using that right now, so… How are we going to do this…?"  
East quickly shook his head. "Oh, no problem! I wasn't going to spend the night here, anyway."  
"What?" West exclaimed at this, whipping around to stare at his elder brother. "B-but you just got here! Why wouldn't you? I'm sure we can figure something out. Hell, you can have my room: I'll sleep here with Aster, no problem." He seemed both shocked and disappointed when East shook his head again.  
"I've got a hotel room in the city for as long as I need to be here," he explained calmly. "On the Soviet Union's expense, too. If they hear I didn't check in there every night, well…" He grimaced at the idea. "I don't want to get in trouble. Stalin might not be around anymore, but they still don't seem like people you'd want to cross." He looked West in the eyes then, adding with a deep sigh: "I'm not even supposed to be here. So if anyone ever asks, we haven't seen each other since '47, all right?"  
West nodded immediately, promising that he would keep his mouth shut, and Veneziano soon followed his example.  
But then East decided to leave that topic behind and move on to something else. "So, uh…" he stammered for a moment. He had so many questions, he didn't even know where to begin. How was life in the west? Had he been doing okay? How was Austria, and had West contacted the Benelux yet? Since when were he and Veneziano so friendly again? Not that it was a bad thing, of course. He could even ask a thing or two about the dog, Aster, who was currently curled up on a mat on the floor, snoring softly.  
In the end, he settled for the most standard question, which he could just about slap himself for. Didn't he have anything better to ask? "How have you been, little bro?" How unawesome it sounded.  
West still smiled, though. "I've been doing really well," he said. "The economy's doing great and the Allies only rarely come to check up on the state of things anymore. I think they're pleased with how things are going. I sure am, anyway." Sadness flashed in his eyes as he added: "I've missed you all this time, though. That never became easier, not even with Aster around to keep me company."  
"I sure hope not!" East huffed before he even thought about it. "I'm still too awesome to be replaced by a _dog_ , thank you very much." It was only when he saw West flinch that he realised what he'd said.  
The younger nation averted his gaze with a soft sigh. "That's not what I meant, brother," he said in a small voice. "Of course no one will ever replace you. It's just…"  
East quickly shook his head, feeling guilty for that brief outburst now. "No, no, it's okay," he promised hastily. "I shouldn't have said that… I'm sorry." He looked at the sleeping dog then, adding more softly: "I've had the company of many nations all these years, after all. I suppose it's only natural that you'd start to feel lonely without all that. Dogs do make good companions, even though I don't like them much myself, I must say." He forced a small smile. "It's been really nice, having Hungary there. Estonia is also really kind, and Russia's not so bad. Lately, I've even been getting along with _Poland_ more. Can you believe it?"  
"Hardly," West laughed in response, clearly happy to hear that his brother had been doing well, too.  
Veneziano also couldn't hold back some laughter. "I thought you hated Poland more than anyone in the world!" he said disbelievingly. "What changed?"  
A little more uncomfortable now, East shrugged. "Shared trauma," he answered reluctantly. "We both went through roughly the same thing in Auschwitz. It's just… that we understand each other in that."  
"Poland, too…?" Veneziano asked in a shocked whisper. " _Dio_ … That's… terrible. Prussia… I-I mean, Gilbert. Sorry." His cheeks tinted pink when he realised his mistake, guilt evident on every inch of his face. Then he sighed. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through all that. When you told everyone in court, I… I felt sick. Literally. I can't believe anyone would be so cruel."  
"I can imagine it very vividly," was all East said in response, trying to stop his mind from conjuring up memories he really had no desire reliving. Razor-sharp knives. Syringes. A twisted, sick grin. _No, no, no…_ The albino nation took a deep breath and tried to think of other things. He was in Berlin again now. His little brother sat within reach. One of his best friends was here, too. Everything was all right.  
Poisons. Pincers clenched tightly around his teeth, pulling them out one by one. Needles. A syringe filled with blue chemicals dangling in front of his eyes.  
West Germany had been doing so well. It showed in everything, from the nation himself to the way he'd been keeping his house tidy and how he had rebuilt his friendship with Italy Veneziano. East was proud of his little brother for handling everything so well.  
Stories of how his brothers were sawn in half. How his sister had been decapitated. His siblings and his cousins had been killed in various gruesome ways. Laughter as he was being told all these things.  
"Brother."  
East didn't know he'd been trembling until he felt West's arms around his shoulders, pulling him close and holding him comfortably. "It's okay. All of that was ten years ago. It's over." East gulped in air and held his breath then, nodding as he closed his eyes against his younger brother's broad shoulder. West shifted. "We don't talk about that, all right?" he said in a hushed tone, presumably to Veneziano. "Those months have really traumatised him badly…"  
Hearing this, East sat up straight and gently pushed West away. With narrowed eyes he huffed. "Stop treating me like a weakling," he said in a strained voice. For some reason, his blood seemed to be boiling under his skin after what his little brother had just said to Veneziano. "You're right: it's been ten years. And you know what? I can deal with it now." He took a deep breath and forced himself to stop shaking. Once he'd managed to do that, East looked at West again, determined to prove to him that he was all right. "I'm okay now, Ludwig," he stated with conviction in every syllable. "Stop worrying."  
West was silent for a moment, a hurt look in his pale-coloured eyes, but then he nodded. "If you say so, brother," he said softly. "But if you do need help, don't hesitate to ask. I'm here for you if you need me." With a brief glance at Veneziano, who was watching in silence, he added: "We both are."  
Veneziano tried to smile then. "Absolutely," he promised then. "But I won't bring it up anymore unless you decide you want to talk about it, I promise." When East hummed after this, the Italian looked away uncomfortably. The silence that fell was an awkward one, and Italy Veneziano was the first to want to end that discomfort. "How about I cook tonight?" he suggested to the two German brothers. "Then you'll have time to catch up some more. How does that sound?"  
"That would be great, Veneziano, thanks," West said immediately, sending his friend a grateful smile.  
East, too, smiled at this. "Ooh, please tell me it'll be pasta!" His mouth watered at the idea, and he could only barely suppress a shiver of delight. "I haven't had that divine awesomeness in _years_." Literally everything they ate in Russia was combined either with bread or potato or, on rare occasions, rice.  
Veneziano laughed at his excited expression. "Sure! I was going to do that sometime before I left, anyway. Might as well make it tonight, right, Ludwig?"  
"Sounds like a plan. Thanks again, Veneziano, really."

* * *

Later that night, while Italy Veneziano was working on making dinner, East and West had gone upstairs to West's room for some privacy. They sat side by side on the younger nation's bed as they talked.  
"Russia actually has a scar exactly like it," East said as he explained how things had been in Moscow the past years. He had his hand on his chest as he talked about how everyone in there had the same brand he did, on various places; East's was on his chest to symbolise the loss of his capital to the Soviet Union. "Russia was supposed to get his on his chest, too," he went on softly, recounting the story he had once heard from his fellow nations. "But he struggled and fought back. Eventually they pinned him down anyway, and it was due to his squirming that they hit his neck instead."  
West was staring at the floor as he heard this, a look of horror in his eyes. He shuddered when his elder brother fell quiet eventually. "It sounds horrible," he said in a hoarse whisper. "I never thought I'd say it, but… I kind of feel sorry for Russia."  
East nodded solemnly. "It was the same for me. I hated him so much, but in time, I learnt that he was as much a victim as all of us. Well, maybe slightly less so, but a victim nonetheless."  
Curiosity in his gaze, West looked up then, his eyes narrowed questioningly. "But there's something I don't understand," the young nation stated. "Of course your brand has become a scar, and the others' too, since Russia did it to you. Then who branded _him?_ If it were humans, it wouldn't have scarred, right?"  
East fidgeted for a moment. He'd asked the same thing once. The answer had made him feel sick. "I heard they forced one of his sisters to do it," he said in a tiny voice, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't know how they managed to do it, and I don't want to know. They must have threatened all three of them, I think, if they wouldn't brand one another like that." Wide-eyed, he turned to look at his little brother, feeling his stomach twist at the idea of doing such a thing to West. "I can't imagine what it must be like to them… I would never forgive myself if I hurt you like that, even if I had no choice."  
"Me neither," West said with a deep sigh, returning the stare. He then reached out and laid his hand on East's, quiet for a moment. A smile spread on his lips as he choked out: "I still can't believe you're here… That you're back after all this time, and so suddenly, too."  
East chuckled for a moment, leaning over to his brother and ruffling up his neatly combed hair. "You'd better start believing it, little bro!" he told him with laughter in his voice. "I'm really here, and I'm not leaving yet!"  
At these last words, West stiffened a little. His smile faded again. "Can't we find a way for you to _stay_? Forever?"  
To his own surprise, East felt a spark of anxiety when the young nation said this. He shook his head quickly. "They would never forgive me for it," he explained, a bit frustrated. Hadn't he explained that earlier that afternoon? "I don't want to get in trouble over this, Ludwig. I _need_ to go back eventually. I just hope it will be a while yet before I need to leave." No one would be happy if he stayed here forever from now on. Well, aside from West Germany, that is. East was overjoyed to be home again and he felt dizzy with bliss just being with his little brother again, but it wasn't worth the trouble it would cause them both if he stayed. Russia would be angry, no doubt, and Hungary would be lonely without him there. The political top in both the Soviet Union and his own government would have collective heart attacks from sheer rage. Even Romania and Slovakia would be displeased, since both of them had come to depend on East Germany when it came to their side-jobs as the household's medics.  
If all that wasn't enough, the way he felt while he was here certainly was. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but underneath all the happiness he felt at being back in Berlin and being able to spend time with West again, all of this was somehow… daunting. He was happy to be here, but he didn't feel at ease. It was strange, but he really disliked feeling that way. He just hoped all that would fade sometime soon.  
He turned back to West with a grin. "But let's not talk about that now, Ludwig, come on," he said happily, giving his younger brother a friendly nudge. "We should talk about the good stuff! How long have you and Veneziano been friends again? How's Austria? Also, have you talked to the Benelux again yet?"  
West closed his eyes with a smile. "It's been about seven months since Veneziano and I started talking again. After that, things quickly got the way they are now. I'm really glad things turned out like this…" He sighed softly. "After everything that happened during the war, and before that, too, I never thought we would be able to spend time together and… Well, and have fun, actually." The young nation shook his head for a moment and looked back at East. "Austria is doing really well, too. He seems to have recovered from the war quite well by now. He has his relapses sometimes, but not often. I suppose we all have those moments, though," he added with a shrug.  
It was quiet for a little while after that. The joy faded from West's eyes and he sighed deeply. "I haven't spoken to any of the Benelux yet, aside from a meeting or two. Even there, though, we never talked much, and only ever about business. I… still don't know how to make it up to them…"  
East placed his hand on his little brother's shoulder when he heard this, giving it a soft squeeze. "Don't worry, Ludwig," he tried to reassure him, smiling warmly. "Just give them time. They'll let you know when they want to talk, I'm sure. They _will_ forgive you, I can promise you that. It would be unlike them if they didn't."  
"I hope you're right."  
"Hey, little bro," East joked then, a more cocky grin on his lips now. "I'm still Awesomeness incarnated! I'm always right, you know I am."  
Soon after that, Italy Veneziano called to them that dinner was ready, so the two went downstairs again.

* * *

Days passed after East Germany's sudden appearance. Since then, the older nation had been going up and down the city every day, spending every free moment he had with his little brother or just with Veneziano when West was away. In the evening, he always went back to the hotel he stayed at. It had taken them all week to catch up on each other's news.  
Right now they were sorting through the groceries East had bought; he had offered to go shopping when West had still been finishing up his work for the day. He'd been away for quite a while, though. Unpacking the bags now, West understood why.  
Somewhat surprised, West Germany read the label on one of the products. "You went to East Berlin for this?" That was quite a distance to walk. No wonder his brother had been away for so long  
East looked almost startled when West commented on this. "Is something wrong with that?" he asked, stammering a little. He quickly turned back to the groceries and lined up a few cans in the cupboard.  
Even more confused now, West shook his head. "No, of course not," he replied doubtfully. "I'm just… surprised. That you went all that way, I mean. There's stores not far from here, you know." He watched his brother for a moment longer as East hummed, shrugged, then grabbed some more stuff from the bag. There was something off about his behaviour, but West couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Are you all right…?"  
East looked at him in confusion to match West's. "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" The albino nation huffed and rolled his eyes. "Just because I went to East Berlin for groceries, something should be wrong with me now? Come on. I _am_ East Germany, after all."  
West already wasn't listening anymore. The moment East had huffed like that, a warm and foul smell hit his nose, one he hadn't smelled in some time and one that was still familiar to him. He'd had to smell it for most of his life, after all. Until 21 years ago. "Brother, have you…" he asked tentatively. No, surely he wouldn't? Knowing how risky it was? He couldn't be that stupid. Even so, that scent hung in the air even now. The younger nation sighed softly. "Have you been smoking, Gilbert?"  
East tensed. "So what if I have?" He turned his back on West as he put away the last groceries. "I only smoke about three cigarettes a day -that's not much. Not at all. And I've only been doing so since I came back here, too, so it's been little over two weeks."  
West's heart sank. "But Gilbert, you _stopped!_ You stopped more than two decades ago! Don't you remember why you had to?" He couldn't be serious! How could East be such a fool?  
" _Of course I remember!_ " East snapped, anger flaring in his gaze. "I know my head was messed up, but my memory is still impeccable, thank you very much. But you know what? I don't care." Crossing his arms over his chest and raising his chin defiantly, the German nation stared at his little brother. "It's not going to kill me. More than two decades have passed since then and nothing has happened. _I'm fine._ And even if I'm not, what does it matter?" He still stood in the same defiant position, but his muscles tensed in a different manner; for a few seconds, he looked more afraid than anything else. "Ludwig, let's face it: I'm dying anyway. What difference will a few cigarettes make? And if it makes you feel better, little brother, I can promise you that I'll stop by the time I go back to Moscow. I'll have to: they don't allow smoking in that house after some nations complained about the smell, so Slovakia, Belarus and Bulgaria had to stop, too. Happy now?"  
For a little while after this, West Germany could only stare at his elder brother, dumbfounded. "What difference can a few cigarettes make…?" he echoed in astonishment. "Well, just a few years of your life, really. But clearly that doesn't matter to you." In pure frustration, the young nation shook his head, his jaws clenched. "You complete _moron!_ I thought we were going to keep you alive as long as we could -why would you work against that now?"  
Strangely, East was smiling at these words. But it was an eerie smile, with an unnerving look in his eyes. His lips moved, but he whispered so softly that West could barely hear him. "Oh, Holy Rome…" the older nation said, to himself it seemed, even though he used the Holy Roman Empire's name. "I get it now… I understand what you meant back then…" Then East just snorted, closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, still with that smile. It looked almost mocking.  
West gritted his teeth, anger rushing through his body. "You understand _what?_ "  
Immediately, East's eyes shot open again, their red irises aflame. His entire body was tense. "That you can be a selfish brat, that's what!" he yelled agitatedly. "I get what you'll go through after I'm gone, all right? I get it -I've been there! But I also understand the other side of it now, and it's _crap!_ " The albino took a step closer to his little brother then, reaching for him, but West moved away. East didn't seem to mind it that much, though. "I know that you don't want to lose me," he said, more softly now. "I don't want to lose you, either. But there comes a time we have to accept this, and really, I think I'm already there." He blinked and averted his gaze with a deep sigh, looking at the floor instead. "Ludwig, I… I don't want to have to live like this. Careful all the time, restricted and… _Not as me._ I'd rather do what I like in what time I have left, even if that may shorten that time by a bit."  
When he looked up again, his eyes were glassy, although it was clear he was trying to hide this as best he could. "Whatever happens, Ludwig," the Prussian said in a soft voice. "I don't want to end up like Holy Rome did, or Hanover for that matter. I don't want to be that sick before I die. S-so if I smoke my way into a heart attack or another brain haemorrhage… _good!_ At least it'll be over quickly that way."  
West couldn't breathe for a moment, his heart racing in his chest. Did East even hear himself talk? "Explain to me again how any of this would make me a 'selfish brat', because I don't get it," he muttered, glaring at East Germany. What nonsense…  
A growl came over East's lips then, and the albino nation gritted his teeth in rage. "You're not listening, are you?" He clenched his hands into fists. From somewhere in the living room, both nations could hear Aster growling, but neither of them paid any attention to the dog. "I'm dying either way, Ludwig! So would you stop telling me what to do? Would you not treat me as a criminal for smoking some cigs? Would you not interrogate me if something's 'off' according to you? I've got my own life here, and I've got a well-functioning set of brains, and I don't need a _child_ telling me what I can and can't do!"  
East's words were cut off by Aster suddenly jumping between them and barking at the older nation with his teeth bared. Rather than make him back off, this angered East Germany even further, and his raised his voice again. "Can't that dog stay out of this, dammit?!" Looking down at Aster, he snapped: "I'm not talking to you, _mutt_ , I'm talking to my little brother here!" As he said this, he pointed to West Germany.  
A big mistake. The moment he stretched his arm towards the young nation, Aster jumped up with another bark and, growling, he slammed his jaws shut around East's arm. The nation flinched with a yell of pain. He swung his arm to make the dog let go, but instead, his teeth dug deeper into his flesh and tore deep cuts in his skin.  
Immediately, West lunged for Aster and grabbed him by his scruff. "Aster, _no!_ Let go, _let go!_ " It took a few seconds before the dog obeyed, and in a moment of sheer panic, West smacked him on the head, but not too hard. Aster cowered, whimpering. "Don't _ever_ bite anyone again, you hear me?" He should have seen this coming. Aster hadn't attacked anyone yet, but he had been close several times before, usually with border guards.  
West turned back to his brother; East was clenching his injured arm tightly, blood oozing from between his fingers and dripping onto the ground. Without even thinking, West grabbed his arm and looked at the wound. Two deep gashes ran over East's lower arm, from top to bottom. "Wait a moment, Gil," he said under his breath, already turning to the cupboard where he kept his first-aid supplies. He barely used them, but it was always good to have. This was only proof of that.  
Quickly he soaked a rag in medicinal alcohol and dabbed at the cuts. East winced, but he didn't move. Still, as he was disinfecting the deep wounds, West could feel the fury radiating from his brother, and he knew they weren't finished yet.  
When West grabbed bandages, East spoke up, his voice hoarse and devoid of emotion. "Wrong." His gaze was fixed on his bleeding arm as he muttered. "Look at how deep it is: this isn't going to heal within the hour, even if it was just a dog. It'll need stitching."  
"Oh, I'm sorry, doctor Beilschmidt," West scoffed, his eyes narrowed. "Unfortunately, I don't have the equipment or the skills for that. It's not going to kill you, so you'll just have to make do, I'm afraid."  
East said nothing else as West tightly wrapped bandages around his arm. It was only when the younger nation had already moved away again to put the first-aid supplies back in the cupboard that he made another sound. "…I'm sorry…"  
Looking back up at his brother, West saw that his eyes were once again glassy. East sighed deeply. "I don't want to fight, Ludwig… Not ever."  
West stared at him for a moment, then gave a solemn nod. "It's not the first time, though," he said softly, saddened by this fact. "And I doubt it will be the last, too. But that's okay. It wouldn't be healthy if we constantly agreed on everything, would it? I'm sorry, too." He glanced down at Aster, who was still on the floor. When he caught his owner's gaze, the dog shrunk back and slowly backed away. "Aster will be punished, I promise. He can go without dinner for the night."  
"No, don't," East replied quickly, shaking his head. "He protected you, after all. He did his job."  
"By nearly tearing off my brother's arm." With another sigh, West opened the door to his garden, looking at Aster again. "Outside," he said commandingly. " _Now._ "  
The dog heaved himself to his feet and slowly made his way into the garden, head and tail hanging low. He didn't move or make a sound as West closed the door behind him.  
"He can at least stay outside for an hour or so," he said, half to himself as well as to his brother. "If I didn't punish him at all, he would only think it's okay for him to attack people, and no one wants that."  
Silence fell between the brothers after this, and although the hostile atmosphere was gone now, it was still uncomfortable. Thinking about the past few minutes, West felt ashamed that an argument like this had started all because he had to be angry with his brother for smoking again. Still, he couldn't stop himself from thinking that his brother was being foolish. He could only hope that he had spoken the truth when he said he would stop once he went back to Moscow.  
"Let's just sit down," West Germany suggested after a little while. Having said that, he immediately went to the couch and sat there, East following him more slowly.  
The albino nation winced as he sat down, grimacing as his right hand flew to his injured arm again. But he said nothing about it as he took his place beside his younger brother. Once they were both there, side by side, the silence came back. Until East sighed, that is, and leant against West's shoulder. "I really don't want to fight again…"  
West turned his head, hiding his face in his brother's soft white hair, and took a deep breath. "Neither do I," he whispered back. "So… Let's not do it anymore. I'm sorry for being so bossy sometimes. It's just… We haven't seen each other in years, and then you're here again and you…" He trailed off, not wanting to say anything that might rekindle the fight.  
East Germany shrugged. "I said it before," he replied softly. "I get it, Ludwig. I felt the same way about Holy Rome. When he said he didn't want to see any doctors anymore, that he was done with it… That hurt so much. I don't want to do that to you, but…" He, too, paused for a moment now, then went on quietly: "I don't want to end up like he did, but you also won't want to see me like that. Trust me. I still remember how frail and sickly he looked, and it's not a nice memory. I don't want to do _that_ to you, either. So I figured… Maybe it would be easier if I left with some dignity, before I'm so sick and weak that you can barely recognise me. But I hope that will be a while yet." He tilted his face up, until he was basically nose-to-nose with his younger brother. "Trust me, Ludwig, I'm not ready to die yet, and those cigarettes aren't meant to speed up the process. Just remember that I'd been smoking for nearly two centuries before I stopped. Those things, I must admit, are pretty addictive. Every time I caught a whiff of one in the past years… Damn. I just missed it. Especially with the discord in the city at the moment. So when someone offered me a cig when I came to the city, well…"  
West nodded. He didn't approve, but he did understand. "Can you please make an effort to stay alive a little while longer, though?" he asked softly. "I would hate for these… What will it even be? Days? Weeks? Months? After you go back to Moscow, I hope we can see each other again… someday. I would hate for these to be the last weeks we have with each other."  
East Germany closed his eyes with a smile. "I can't promise anything, Ludwig," he replied in a calm, soothing voice. "But I told you before: I will do what I can to stay with you as long as possible. That still stands. It always will."  
The albino nation then turned and wrapped his good arm around his little brother. "I'm sorry I shouted at you. I'm not angry at all and I… I didn't mean it. That you're selfish. You're not." East then moved his hand up a bit, to West's hair, running his finger through it softly. "I love you, Ludwig. No matter what, no matter how long we're apart, that won't ever change."  
West Germany felt completely at ease again, hugging his brother, hearing his voice. It had been a few days since they had reunited, but being in this position still felt as good as that first moment had.  
"I love you too, brother. I can't even put to words how good it is to have you here, even if just for a little while… It's the best thing that's happened in years."  
And in that moment, West realised that the next time they had to separate, it would be easier than the last time. This time, they were able to prepare for it, spend time together and get used to the idea of being apart once more before they would split up.  
This time, they would split up on _their_ terms, and no one else's.

* * *

 **Now I'm sorry about that fight they had, but to be honest, I can't imagine things going smoothly straight away. They have been apart for six years, one living in capitalism and the other in communism. That alone is a recipe for conflict, especially since neither of them disagree with their respective ideologies (No, seriously: East is okay with communism. There are only aspects that he doesn't like much, but most of it he's totally fine with these days)  
In top of that, here's a sensitive topic that they never really sat down and talked about, combined with one that they never really agreed on anyway. It kind of makes sense that there would be a point where they get angry with each other.**

 **But of course, they're brothers and they will love each other no matter what! Just as Prussia said, really.**

 **Anyways... I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading, and please be patient for the next! It will be there eventually, I promise.**


	43. Chapter 43

**People, you have no idea how good it feels to be back!  
Yesterday I had my first smooth writing in _ages_ , and today, too. It feels so good.**

 **Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed and/or favourited! You're still as awesome as ever!**

 **Now I hope you'll enjoy this chapter~!**

* * *

Life in Moscow had been peaceful for almost a decade. In 1956, that peace came to an abrupt end.  
It was the morning of 28 June when things went awry. Poland had looked off all morning during breakfast and after, and soon the nations learnt why: there was an uprising in the Polish city of Poznán, and of course the usual measures were being taken.  
That meant there would be military intervention from both the Polish government and the Soviet Union. East Germany knew all too well how that felt: during his time in East Berlin in 1953, there had been an uprising among his people, too. There had been casualties, and none of it had been in any way comfortable to him. Immediately after it, an agitated Russia had come to East Berlin to find the albino nation and drag him back to Moscow. He hadn't been able to say goodbye to his little brother, and it had been weeks before he'd heard anything from West Germany. The younger nation had sent him a letter, stating that, while of course he was saddened that their time together had once again ended so abruptly, he understood why it had happened and he had expected as much when the uprising began.  
That letter had been intercepted, however, and read by someone from the Soviet government before East received it. Now knowing that the nation had broken their rules and gone to his little brother in his time back in Berlin, the government had punished East for it, telling him he shouldn't expect to be allowed back into his own country anytime soon. Also, he was not to send any letters to West Germany anymore from then on. Since that day, East had not received a single letter from his little brother. He was certain West still sent him letters, but they must all be intercepted and kept from him. For three years, East had been wondering how his little brother must be feeling, not receiving any response from East.  
Right now, East only wondered what Poland's punishment would be. From his own experience, East knew that an uprising among their people was seen as weakness, an inability of the nation to control his people. Weakness was not accepted.  
Poland must have realised this, because the moment Russia berated him about the uprising in Poznán, he turned pale as a ghost, shaky and nervous. East Germany watched the scene casually, trying not to look too curious as to what was going on. He noticed most other nations doing the same thing.  
Once Russia was done and walked away, Lithuania went to Poland's side, but the blond nation swatted his hand away when he had tried to touch his old friend. Poland was tense and looked anxious as he mumbled that he had work to do and that he wished to be left alone for a little while.  
"Do you think he'll be all right?" Estonia asked under his breath beside East.  
The albino shrugged. "No idea. If the Soviets manage to quell the uprising without violence, I'm sure he'll be fine." He paused for a moment, sighing before adding more softly: "If they can't… We'll find out what happens when you cross the Soviet Union once again, I think." He shuddered at the memories of his own people's uprising and the aftermath.  
Hungary, standing within earshot from them, made a soft noise. "I doubt it'll be a pleasant experience for him… Poor Felix."  
"It wasn't pleasant for me," East muttered back. "It's not going to be pleasant for him, either. He's lucky in one respect, you know: at least he's got no family on the other side that he can be cut off from." He huffed then, averting his gaze agitatedly. "You're _all_ lucky in that respect."  
Hungary looked at him with a correcting stare. "They're all as much family to me as they are to you, safe for the blood ties. I miss Roderich and Ludwig, too, and the others." Her gaze softened again, and she carefully tapped his shoulder in an effort to be comforting. "But I get what you mean. Most of us here have family with us or none at all, after all."  
"Let's just hope things won't be too bad," Estonia then said with a soft sigh. "And preferably that we can all just go on with our lives as normal."

* * *

The situation in Poland continued until the end of June.  
East Germany was at his desk, working, when suddenly the door slammed open. He nearly jumped when he heard Ukraine's voice loudly behind him.  
"East!" the woman burst out, sounding anxious and rushed. "East, you're needed!"  
The albino nation gripped his pen a little tighter an suppressed a sigh. "Needed where?" he asked calmly, trying not to show his annoyance. This wasn't exactly the easiest task he was working on, and he had been this close to figuring out a way to go about it.  
Ukraine spoke more quietly now when she replied: "W-with Poland. He's hurt, and Slovakia isn't around right now."  
This had East looking up from his work curiously. "How bad is it?" He already put his pen down and got up, ready to help however necessary. Ukraine's expression told him enough, but her soft, whimpered 'bad' even more so. With a spark of worry, East dashed past her into the hallway. Realising only there that he would need her to tell him where Poland was right now, he halted for just two seconds, giving her the opportunity to take the lead.  
Following Ukraine, East Germany ran through the corridors of the large house, passing Bulgaria and Belarus on the way. The two nations both called after them what the hurry was about, but they received no response from either of them. The only thing East paid any attention to was Ukraine, to make sure that he wouldn't bump into her if she slowed down to go around a corner or if they reached the room Poland was in. In his head, he was already going over what he might need to do to help the older nation.  
The young woman led East to the library, or what served as a library, anyway. There was some furniture there aside from ceiling-high bookcases, a table, a few chairs, a sofa. Lithuania and Hungary both sat on the floor beside that sofa, worried expressions on their faces as they stared at Poland. The injured nation lay on his side, knees pulled up and his hands clutching his side. Even from a slight distance, East could see blood oozing from between Poland's fingers. That must be a large cut indeed.  
East Germany approached quickly but calmly, gently nudging Hungary aside in order to kneel down in front of Poland. "Can you move your hands away?" he asked the older nation in a soft voice. He was already reaching out to Poland's bleeding side. "I need to see if-"  
Before East could even touch him, Poland swatted the albino's hands away. He had his jaws clenched in pain but he was glaring at East through furious dark green eyes. "Don't touch me," he said in a low, hoarse voice, hatred dripping from every syllable. "I don't need some damn Prussian helping me. Get lost."  
East leant back, staring at the older nation indignantly. Truly the only reason he hadn't slapped him in the face yet was that Poland had at least had the decency to call him Prussian instead of German. East huffed angrily. "Well, in that case," he replied coolly, "you can lie here waiting for Romania or Slovakia to show up. Now I don't know where Romania went right now, but Slovakia is in his own country for another week if I recall correctly. Do you think you can wait that long?"  
At this, Poland gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes further. But he didn't answer.  
Poland's silence made East's lips twitch into a tiny, satisfied grin. "Thought so." He carefully pushed his glasses up a bit with one hand, already holding the other out to Poland again. "So are you going to let me take a look or not? You know I only want to wear these glasses when I'm working, after all."  
Poland held his gaze for a long while, then he sighed and closed his eyes. "Get to work, then," he croaked softly. He shifted a little, grimacing in pain, and moved his hands from his side, exposing a large blood stain. East could immediately tell from the way Poland's drenched shirt clung to his skin that the wound underneath must be at least half the size of the stain it had left, and it was likely to be deep as well.  
"Romania was here just minutes ago," came Hungary's shaking voice, quiet and filled with worry for her friend. "He's gone to get supplies… He should be back any moment now."  
East nodded, not taking his eyes off Poland as he carefully peeled the older nation's shirt loose from his wound. Poland hissed in pain for a moment, until East Germany had managed to move all of the wet fabric away from the deep cut. East then proceeded to unbutton the lower half of Poland's shirt and fold it up so that he would have space to work the moment Romania would come back with supplies.  
Poland sighed deeply, without looking at East Germany. "Those goddamn Russians…" he muttered under his breath. "Can they never do anything without killing innocent people?"  
"I suppose not," East answered softly. "But then, when have protests like these ever gone completely peacefully?"  
If anyone had been going to respond to that, they didn't get the chance. Romania came running in then, a case with first aid supplies in his arms. He looked relieved when he saw East Germany. He went to the albino's side immediately and set down the case. "I've got disinfectant, stitching supplies and bandages," he said in a rush, flipping the lid open.  
East gave a short nod. "Can you start disinfecting while I prepare the stitching thread?" Romania quickly did as he was asked, and East got the needle and thread out, preparing those.  
When Romania moved back about a minute later, finished with disinfecting, East his place. He slid the needle into Poland's skin swiftly and with care, but it still elicited a grunt from the blond nation. Poland cursed for a moment, muttering a complaint about the lack of painkillers before East had started sewing his side closed. East Germany ignored this, continuing his work diligently and with a precision unmatched by Romania and Slovakia.  
They were excellent medics in their own rights, but Slovakia's expertise went no further than what East was doing now. He also hadn't been doing this type of work for as long as the albino nation had, so he wasn't as swift and effective as East was. Romania also knew treatments for several illnesses, but not much more than the basics. He had another skill that East Germany didn't have, though: Romania knew several pressure points, of which East had only ever learnt a handful, with which he could ease headaches, nausea, dizziness and almost anything of the likes. There was even a pressure point on the arm, one that East had yet to find, that could be used to stop hiccups.  
Everyone in the household knew by now that, for injuries, you could go to Slovakia. For minor ailments, Romania was the right person to ask for help. But it was common knowledge that, in case of an emergency, East Germany was to man to turn to. And if not even East could help, then it was time to go to hospital.  
East just hoped this day wouldn't end with a trip like that, although right now he was fairly confident that he could do enough now to prevent that from happening. Provided Poland wouldn't do anything stupid once East was finished, of course. Looking at Poland and also the amount of blood he had lost, though, East found it very unlikely that Poland would do anything but rest after this. The older nation was many things, but he wasn't foolish enough to kill himself.  
It wasn't long before East finished up, tying a neat, small knot in the stitches after cutting the thread. Romania then went on to carefully dab some more disinfectant on Poland's skin and wrap a layer of bandages around him. Meanwhile, East grimaced a little as he was looking at the blood on his hands. "See, and this is why we should always have gloves handy," he complained with a soft grunt. "Better for the patient and better for us, too."  
"Yeah," Poland croaked with a weak huff. "It makes me _so happy_ to know that you just did all that with your bare hands. Probably without washing them beforehand, too, eh? Great. I won't die of blood loss, but the germs will most certainly kill me."  
"Oh, hush," East retorted with a sigh. "It's not going to kill you. And trust me, I disliked it as much as you did."  
Poland scoffed a little. "I doubt that."  
For a moment, East didn't respond, but then he sighed again. "You could also say 'thank you' sometime, you know? It's only two words, it doesn't take that much effort."  
To his surprise, Poland's first response was a dry laugh. "Oh, sure, thanks for showing off your sewing skills," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he shakily pushed himself up. He glared at East as he sat up. "And _thank you_ , you goddamn bastard, for causing this in the first place!"  
East almost flinched at these words. "I… What?" he stammered, confused for a moment before anger took over. "What do you mean, I caused this? What nonsense is that?"  
"Well, your people, then!" Poland snapped at him. "If your people hadn't caused such trouble in '53 and caused the Russians to get so overly cautious, my people might not have died, and I might not have been hurt!" His voice was cold and overflowing with anger as he spoke.  
East felt a spark of guilt, but quickly pushed that away. He glared back at Poland now. "Good of you to wait until I was finished working on you," he said in a low, fury-filled voice. "I might just have turned around and walked away if you'd said this to me beforehand. Romania," he then added more calmly to said nation. "I trust you can handle it from here on? If my patients treat me like this, then I won't be treating them at all." That said, he spun around tensely and walked away, ignoring the other nations.  
He was barely into the hallway when Hungary came running after him, though. "Gil, please!" she called after him. "Don't listen to him when he gets like this! You did a wonderful job, and I'm sure he's truly grateful! I know I am."  
East halted and spun around again, this time to face his dear friend. She was staring at him with wide, pleading green eyes. He just bit the inside of his lip for a second. "Yeah, well," he replied softly, his voice still hard with anger. "He can go about showing that gratitude better, if you ask me."  
This made Hungary giggle and her gaze already held more warmth when she stared up at East Germany. "Your own method of thanking people could use some work at times, too, if you recall," she said almost teasingly as she went to stand in front of him. There, she closed her eyes, her expression solemn again. "But do you realise that -to an extent, of course- Poland was right?"  
East didn't respond right away. He averted his gaze, staring at the wall now. "Of course I realise that," he replied in a voice barely above a whisper. "If things had gone differently in my people's uprising, things might have gone differently now, too. None of that gives him the right to blame me for it, though, and especially not after I dropped all my work to go help him."  
"Well," Hungary mumbled a little uncomfortably. "We all know you and Poland aren't exactly friends…"  
"But we should be," East then huffed, annoyed by this fact. "Or we should at least try to be friend _ly_ from now on. We've been living under the same roof for nearly a decade, after all, and now with the Warsaw Pact to top it all off…"  
The Warsaw Pact had been created the year before, in 1955. It was an alliance between all the communist nations in Eastern Europe, except Yugoslavia. Everyone in this household was a part of it, and then some others.  
If East Germany and Poland were now to be allies of one another, their personal relationship still left a lot to be desired. And not just theirs. But at least it was a step towards overall improvement, or it was supposed to be. East wasn't so sure anymore lately.

* * *

"Well, I'd say that meeting went well," West heard Netherlands say a little ahead of him, where the older nation walked alongside Belgium. A meeting of the NATO had just ended, a regular one this time. The personifications of the member states gathered together at least once a year, even if there wasn't anything urgent to discuss. Those meetings were meant to update one another on any potentially important information. For West Germany, it mainly involved telling his fellow nations about the situation along the border with the Warsaw Pact members. There had been moments that day when he had felt almost like a spy reporting his findings, but he knew this was important. The Soviet Union had already been a threat to world peace, and now that they were in a military alliance with other communist states, that threat had only increased.  
The thought that, by extension, even his elder brother could potentially be a threat now still made him feel sick with nerves. Even more than a decade after the war, the world was still messed up.  
Right now, seeing the Benelux countries in front of him made him feel worse, though. They still hadn't said much to each other aside from business-related things, and West had had enough of it. He had wanted to say something to them last year, when he had first become a member of the NATO, but he hadn't been able to muster the courage. Now he just told himself that if he didn't do it now, he would have to wait another year.  
That thought didn't make him feel any more at ease when he quickened his pace to catch up with his cousins. His heart was pounding in his throat by the time he reached them. "H-hey," he choked out, too feebly to his own liking, but it was the most stable he could get his voice at that moment.  
All three Benelux countries turned around to face him then. To his relief, none of them looked at him with hostility or hatred, but then, none of them looked too happy to see him, either. It was Netherlands who spoke. "What is it?" he asked flatly, his voice completely emotionless.  
To West, it was like a punch in the gut, and he instantly lowered his gaze. "I… I was just…" _Come on, Ludwig. Take a deep breath and speak clearly, dammit, or nothing will ever change._ He did exactly as he told himself to do, inhaling deeply and looking his cousins in the eyes again. "I was hoping we could talk," he said in as steady a voice as he could muster. When he then tried to say something else, he couldn't anymore.  
Thankfully, that was all he really needed to say. All three nations stared at him for a moment, silent, then exchanged a glance with one another. Netherlands sighed softly and shrugged. "I suppose it needs to happen sometime," he replied coolly. "Not that I'm so keen on the idea, though."  
"Me neither," Luxembourg added, narrowing his eyes a little at his younger cousin. "You're not exactly someone I'd like to talk to."  
Another punch in the gut. "I get that," West said in a tiny voice. "And I don't expect you to feel any other way. But if we never talk about what happened, we can never leave it behind us."  
"Oh, I doubt we'll ever can," Belgium then said with a huff. "Don't get me wrong, I'd love to finally leave all that in the past, but I doubt it's even possible."  
West Germany nodded sadly. "I know…" If only he could at least forget the worst parts of the wars, both the First World War and the Second. But the memories still haunted him every day. Sometimes more presently than other times, but there wasn't a day that he didn't think about the wars, about all the innocent people who suffered. About his brother, too. And whenever he hadn't consciously thought of those things during the day, the memories would plague him at night in the form of nightmares.  
A heavy silence hung in the hallway, broken only by footsteps coming from the conference hall, ones that halted quickly when those nations seemed to realise what was happening further down the hallway.  
Eventually Belgium sighed and shrugged much like her elder brother had. "Oh, fine," she said softly, sounding a little annoyed. "We're in Brussels anyway, we'll go to my house for the time being."  
Suddenly West almost regretted talking to them in the first place.

"So what is it you think is a valid excuse for all you did to us?"  
West shrunk back where he sat a little when Netherlands said this to him, his blueish-green gaze cold and unforgiving. The younger nation had to force the words over his lips. "I have none…" he replied in shame.  
Luxembourg clenched his hands into fists. "No, obviously! Nothing can be an excuse for what you've done!" He gritted his teeth, looking both enraged and distraught at the same time. "You could've gone about it the same way your brother did, you know?" the nation said more softly. "You could've just given me your stupid warning and let me go. Why would you…?"  
West shook his head slowly, gaze on the floor again. "I don't know, and I'm sorry. I have been sorry about what I did for 16 years."  
"And you can stay sorry for another few decades, for all I care!" Belgium snapped.  
"Belgium, Lux, calm down," Netherlands suddenly said to his siblings. He still looked angry, but he didn't act like it, not the way they did. "Nothing good is going to come out of it if all we do is yell at him."  
Belgium spun to face Netherlands now. "Easy for you to say!" she retorted. "You were off easy during the First World War and in the Second, Prussia let you go when he had you cornered! I'd been locked up for most of the Great War, if you recall, and Germany basically beat Luxembourg into hospital!"  
Hearing this fact again, West flinched as memories flashed through his mind. Luxembourg had always been kind to him when he was little. He had always taken the time to teach him new things or play with him when he had just been a little kid. How could he have hurt the man like this, for no reason at all?  
"I'm just saying," Netherlands put in calmly, "no one is going to benefit from it if we don't talk at all."  
Silent for a moment, Belgium looked at her elder brother, then back at West Germany. She sighed softly. "True. So say what you've got to say now or don't say anything at all."  
Those words robbed West of his breath. But then he felt calmer, strangely, and he nodded. "First off," he began determinedly. "I realise neither my brother nor I have apologised for what happened to you in the Great War yet. I just want you to know that we tried, time and time again, to get you out of that prison. But no one listened to us. I'm truly sorry for everything that you had to endure." He looked at Luxembourg then, who was still glaring at him, and added: "And the same goes for you."  
Belgium huffed, but she looked more relaxed, as if that apology was one that she had needed to hear. Not everything yet, not by far, but it was a start. "Well," she muttered, "that sure took you long enough, though."  
West nodded, then turned back to Luxembourg. "As for what I did to you," he said a little shakily, getting nervous all over again. "There's few things I regret as much as what I did that day, and nothing I regret more. Even before I left that day, I was… so ashamed of what I'd done…"  
"And still you left," Luxembourg said softly. He didn't sound angry. Rather he sounded curious as to why his cousin had done that.  
West had been asking himself that same question for 16 years. "I thought staying would have made it even worse," he said with a sigh. "How would you have reacted if I'd done all that and then stayed to offer you help…? I get how it would have made things better, maybe, but it might also have made it worse, and I…"  
"And you were scared," Luxembourg finished for him, narrowing his eyes. "You were scared of what would happen and so you ran. I called you a coward that day. It seems I was right."  
Those harsh words couldn't even hurt West Germany. They were simply true. "You were," he said softly. "I _was_ scared. I was scared of what you would do if I stayed, and also of what Hitler would do if he found out I helped you. I took the easy way out, and I regret it to this day."  
There came no response to this, and West took a deep breath. "I'm also sorry for everything my people have done to you, to your people. If I could have stopped it, I would have, but-"  
"It would have cost you your life," Netherlands interrupted, sitting down beside his young cousin. "No one would have wanted that to happen. I don't blame you for any of that, Ludwig," he then added, looking directly at the German. "You're not the one who orchestrated all that. You're not the evil psychopath who decided to commit genocide and slaughter millions of innocents. My only qualms with you were for what you did to my siblings, and I can tell that you truly are sorry. Doesn't mean I forgive you," he warned with a serious look, "but, well, we can't stay hostile forever."  
I took West a moment to be able to speak again. Then he closed his eyes with a soft sigh. "I'm not asking to be forgiven," he said, barely any louder than a whisper. "I don't _want_ to be forgiven. All I want is to not be hated by what little family I have…"  
"Hated?" Luxembourg echoed in surprise, which made West look up in confusion. The older nation was staring at him with a quizzical gaze. "You think we _hate_ you?"  
Taken aback by this reaction, West gave a tiny nod. "Well, that is…" he stammered. "I wouldn't be surprised if you did, after all that's happened."  
"God, no!" Belgium then burst out, shaking her head. "We're angry about what you did and we'll need some more time for that to ease off, but we don't hate you for it!" She sat down on the edge of the coffee table, right in front of West Germany, and looked him in the eyes. "I was confused and hurt that someone like you could do things like that… and I was -and am!- angry about it, too. But to make me _hate_ you, Ludwig, you would have had to do all the things your people did to ours with your own hands."  
Netherlands, meanwhile, didn't say a word, but he placed a hand on West's shoulder and firmly gripped it, assuring the young nation that he felt the same way. West was too choked up to say anything at first, but then he let out the breath he had subconsciously held in, a tiny smile on his lips.  
"Thank you…"

* * *

The Poznán protests earlier in the year had been bad. But if those had been bad, that meant the revolts in Hungary months later were a disaster.  
For just under a week, there had been no more fighting in Hungary after almost a week of battle and chaos. But now, on 4 November, Russian troops had entered the country once more and the violence began anew. Hungary suffered because of it, and if the pain caused by the revolts wasn't enough, she also received harsh treatment from Russia. The Soviet nation had not allowed her to leave the house at first, not even into the garden, and now he didn't even allow her out of her room; she had been assigned a new, one-person bedroom for the time being specifically to lock her up in it. Were it not for her needing medical attention (Russia would never let any of his 'comrades' die, as he had stated again and again over the past weeks), he wouldn't have allowed anyone near her, either.  
East Germany had spent all day by her side, tending to her wounds and telling her soft words of comfort. He hadn't left to eat at all, only rarely dared to leave her side just to use the bathroom that was attached to her makeshift cell, even if it was to get water to drink for either Hungary or himself.  
It was only now, late in the evening, that he left her for the first time since he'd gone to her. It had taken promises from both Slovakia and Romania that they would stay with her together and take good care of her to get East willing enough to leave. Now, stumbling to his own bed, he regretted that decision.  
Shivering lightly, he sat down on the edge of his bed, grateful that he was the only one in the room at that moment. The only one alive, that is.  
"Sweetheart, you should go and get something to eat," Brandenburg urged him gently, her blue gaze calm but insistent as she knelt in front of him.  
East stubbornly shook his head, trying to figure out his thoughts. "I'm not hungry," he stated, and as if to prove him wrong, his empty stomach rumbled immediately after. The albino just pulled up his knees, balancing his toes on the edge of the bed. "That is, I don't feel like eating. Or seeing anyone else right now."  
Holy Rome sat on his left, looking at him with a look of pity. "She's in good hands, Prussia," he said -no one in the family had ever called him East Germany yet and they likely weren't going to. "You know that Romania and Slovakia are plenty capable of looking after her, especially after everything you've already done to help her."  
"But what if it's not enough?" East protested worriedly. "She's already battered from the earlier battles and now the Russians are coming in for round two… What if I didn't do enough?"  
"She has survived far worse than this," Holy Rome calmly reminded him. "Far longer wars, far steeper losses. Give her some credit, little brother: she can get through this just fine."  
No matter what anyone said, though, East Germany could not feel at ease right now. His head was pounding with thoughts of Hungary, her injuries of the past weeks: bruises, some cuts, some superficial, some less so. Would it be worse this time? Or would it be easier on her?  
What if something happened to her during the night, while he slept? What if Slovakia and Romania would leave her, thinking she would be fine, or maybe they would doze off while something was happening.  
Brandenburg leant in closer. She looked to East like she would have hugged him right now if she could, and he longed to be able to touch her again. "Stop making yourself so scared," she said softly. "There's no need to worry about her at all. No, it won't be a walk in the park, but she will be fine. Partly thanks to you."  
Taking a deep breath, East nodded mutely, telling himself those same words over and over. "I'm just scared," he whispered, "because she's… If I lose Lizzie somehow, then…" Feeling another bout of panic, he stopped and focused on his breathing again before he said something else. "She's my oldest, dearest friend," he choked out then. "And…"  
"And you love her." Brandenburg smiled warmly as she said this.  
East nodded again. "I do. Not like I thought I did, not like I do you, but I do love her. She's been my friend all my life, she's basically family, and she's the only one I have here who isn't… Well, the only one I can really talk to who isn't dead."  
"Don't forget to add yourself to that list," suddenly came a new voice, and with a jolt of shock, East looked up to see Lithuania walking in. The older nation wasn't even looking at the albino as he walked over to his own bed and grabbed a book from under his pillow. It was only when he lay down, pillow propped up against the wall and book opened where he'd finished reading last, that he looked up at East. "Well, don't mind me," he said, sounding as if he was surprised that East had stopped talking now. "You can just continue your little monologue if you want to. It's not like I find it weird or something; I've always known you were insane."  
Offended, East narrowed his eyes. "I'm _not_ insane," he retorted. "Don't ask me how, but somehow I have maintained my sanity despite all I've been put through. And I wasn't talking to myself." He actually didn't need anyone to know about this aside from West, Hungary and Austria, but even less did he need anyone to think him insane for talking to 'himself'. Besides, it's not like secrets could survive long in this place, anyway. A decade was a nice record, though. Even so, this would have come out someday, one way or the other. He just hoped Lithuania would be discreet enough not to tell everyone about it, or at least not mockingly.  
He didn't _trust_ he wouldn't, he just hoped it.  
Lithuania narrowed his eyes. "Sure you weren't," he scoffed. "You're actually asleep and dreaming, allowing you to talk to ghosts."  
Hearing Lithuania say this piqued his interest. So he believed it was possible to talk to the deceased through dreams? Or did he _know_ it was true, through his own experience or hearsay? East just blinked, sitting up a little straighter. "No, actually," he replied calmly. "I don't need to be dreaming for that. Not anymore, after that brain haemorrhage messed with my head. Again," he added quickly, after hearing those words out loud, "not to say that I'm insane, because I'm not. It's just that, on that day, something happened to my brain which lets me see the dead."  
Lithuania stared at him for a few seconds, dumbfounded, then sat up and put his book down again. "Seriously?" He sounded like he believed East, yet at the same time didn't believe him. His expression then darkened from curious to saddened, and he sighed. "I've seen my sister a few times, in dreams," he confessed softly. "We never talked much, just like when she was alive. Sometimes makes me wonder if I wasn't just dreaming after all."  
"To be honest," East told him, wondering if he should say this or not. It might not be nice to hear, after all. "She doesn't mention you much when she talks to me. If at all, really. I couldn't say."  
Lithuania's eyes widened and he paled a little at these words. "You… talk to my sister…?" He shook his head immediately after saying this. "No, no, you can't. What… What is she like, then?" he demanded stubbornly. "What does she look like?"  
East shrugged. "Shoulder-length, dark brown hair that's nearly black. Grey eyes. Her face is much like mine when I was a young teenager, although only the shape of her head, really. Her features are more like yours. As for her personality…" East grimaced a little now. "I don't like her much, to be honest with you. She has this tendency to tease me at all the times I really can't use someone teasing me like that. I'm glad she wasn't with me just earlier, because she would have egged me on into fear for Hungary until she got me to tears, I swear. She seems to enjoy that." The albino nation paused then, thinking for a moment before he sighed. "But I suppose she's all right, most of the time. She _can_ be kind when she wants to, or comforting or caring. She… is kind of like a big sister to me at times. All the sibling fights included."  
Lithuania was quiet for a little while, staring at East Germany wide-eyed, then lowered his gaze and sighed deeply. "That's her, all right," he said in a soft voice, sadness causing the slightest shiver. "She used to do that to me, too. The teasing at the worst times possible. Except with me I can't remember a time she was actually sisterly in any other way than that. If she ever was, that is." He pondered for a few seconds, then looked back up at East. His gaze was mostly emotionless, aside from some bitterness and also faint grief. "If you ever wondered why I don't like you much," he informed the younger nation, "it's because you're exactly like her sometimes. I used to wonder how my sister could have ever been reborn into you, an arrogant little German, until I saw what your attitude can be like. Goddamn, I hated it when she could be like that. I hate it when _you're_ like it." He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, narrowing his green eyes. "For hundreds upon hundreds of years," the Lithuanian said then, raising his voice a little, "all I wanted you to do was to stop reminding me of my biggest mistake in life!"  
East Germany flinched at these words. Involuntarily, he looked at Holy Rome beside him. The dead empire smiled wryly. "It's true that you two are alike at times," he said to his younger brother, his voice soothing after Lithuania's angry outburst. "Remember that you also disliked Bavaria because he reminded you of… it. And would you have wanted Saxony to be reborn and for you to have to look that reincarnation in the eye after that accident?"  
East bit the inside of his lip softly. "I suppose not…" he whispered back. If he was really so much like Old Prussia from time to time, then he could understand Lithuania's dislike for him, something which he previously could only explain through the wars they had fought. But even before they had first met, there had been a dislike, that had become clear during their first meeting on the battlefield. East had passed that off as being due to their being each other's enemies in that war, but that wasn't it. That day, Lithuania had told him how a wound inflicted by him in Old Prussia's shoulder had become infected, causing her death not long after. What must Lithuania have been thinking then, telling his sister's own reincarnation how he had unintentionally killed her?  
Lithuania seemed to be remembering the same day. "I told you once that I didn't mourn her passing," he said almost coldly, his voice quivering ever so slightly. "Well, that was a lie. I'm not so heartless that I wouldn't grieve for my own sister, even if we have never been close. I've been wanting to tell her for centuries that I'm still sorry for what happened, and then… And then she treats _you_ more as her brother than _me?_ Go to hell, Prussia, goddammit."  
East wasn't even sure if Lithuania meant him or Old Prussia when he said that. He just averted his gaze uncomfortably. "If you really want to talk to her," he suggested softly, "I'd be happy to step up as… err… interpreter, I guess."  
"Just continue your conversation, I said," Lithuania muttered, turning his back on East Germany now. "And leave me alone."  
"Give him time," Brandenburg said gently. "He'll come around."  
 _He's never been any different with me,_ East answered silently. He glanced at Lithuania once more, smiling sadly before turning back to Brandenburg and Holy Rome. _At least he's told me why now. I suppose I should have figured this one out myself. It's pretty obvious. Sad, though, that I've always disliked him for killing me in my previous life, and that he's always disliked me for replacing his sister. If things had been different, if there had been no Teutonic Knights and German settlers… I suppose he and I would have been brothers._  
"So many things would have been totally different if one thing had or hadn't happened the way they did," Holy Rome said, looking at the ceiling. "How different do you think your life would have been if Germania decided to raise you himself for his remaining years? Or if you hadn't gone to Sicily when you did? I wouldn't have put it past you and Brandenburg to have become parents one day; it's rare for nations, I know, but you've defied the odds so many times, it wouldn't have surprised me much. You might even have been Germany's parents."  
East felt flustered as he looked at Brandenburg, who was also blushing lightly and looked awkward as Holy Rome said these things. But then East huffed in silent laughter. _Well, from what I heard,_ he said, recalling his little brother's story of meeting Brandenburg in his dreams. _We're more or less his parents, anyway. In a way. Brand especially has been motherly to him._  
"W-well, someone had to!" Brandenburg spluttered defensively. "And I can't very well have Hungary completely taking over the role that would have been reserved for _me_ , had I survived long enough, now can I?"  
At the mention of Hungary's name, East's heart skipped a beat in anxiety again. _When I fall asleep,_ he asked his brother and wife in silence, _you'll wake me if she needs me, won't you?_  
"Of course we will," was Holy Rome's gentle answer. "But don't worry: you can have a proper night's sleep tonight, Prussia."  
The conversation with Lithuania had taken East Germany's mind off his worry for his friend, and this assurance from his brother was the last thing he needed to be more at ease again. Hungary would be fine no matter what. She had to be.

* * *

It took only days for the revolution in Hungary to be quelled. By then, many people had died in the revolts, many were arrested by the Soviets, and Hungary herself wasn't doing too well.  
She still had her personal room, although now that the revolution was over, it wasn't quite like a prison cell anymore. East Germany sat by her side, checking her back, where a cut had opened up two days ago. She didn't make it too easy on him to do so, though: she only lifted her shirt up to her shoulder blades, no higher.  
Eventually he sighed in annoyance. "Lizzie, you know as well as I do that I've seen you in just your underwear many times now," he told her flatly. Then, with a soft snicker, he added: "And without it, too." Hungary didn't respond, so he stopped his soft laughter soon after. That probably wouldn't go over with her so well. "Look, you can keep your skirt on," he insisted gently, "but I can't very well do my job if your shirt's constantly in the way. Come on."  
Again, Hungary didn't say anything. She didn't show any sign of even having heard her friend, but then she lifted her shirt further with shaking hands.  
Immediately, East felt a pang of guilt for asking this of her: between Hungary's shoulders was a star-shaped scar. Her Soviet brand. Biting the inside of his lip so as to not say anything, East softly traced it with his fingertips.  
Hungary pulled away from him the moment he touched her. "Don't," she said stiffly. "I don't even want to know that it's there. Don't touch it." She shook her head when East apologised and tried to tell her that it was okay, that he had the same scar. "I know," she grumbled. "And I don't care. I still don't want everyone to see it."  
East Germany got up then and went to stand in front of her. Without saying a word, he took off the sweater he was wearing, exposing his own scar. Hungary held his gaze for a moment, then glanced at the scar on his chest before uncomfortably looking down. Silently, East went to take his place beside her again, and she turned so that he could work on her back.  
"It's healing just fine," he concluded a few minutes later. "Just keep refreshing the bandages frequently, and stop wearing them at night. In another two days it should be well enough to not need them anymore at all."  
This time, Hungary's only response was a soft sniffle, and East tensed up. He could have seen this coming, but he had hoped she wouldn't be in such a mood. But then, he had felt this miserable many times before by now, too.  
The albino nation just put an arm around her shoulder and gave it a gentle tug. Thankfully, Hungary didn't try to get away from him again. Instead, she spun around and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her face against his shoulder. Soon enough she was crying.  
"Ten years," she cried, sounding miserable and angry and everything in between. " _Ten years_ I've been here and I still want to go home as much as I did on the first day! I-I just… I want my freedom back!" The Hungarian sniffled again for a moment, and East just held her closer, trying to be comforting without saying anything. But then she said something that sent his mind reeling. "Why didn't you escape, Gil?" Hungary asked him in a whisper. "When you were in West Berlin. Why didn't you try to escape to the west altogether? You had a chance and didn't take it. Why?"  
East wasn't sure how to respond. He'd thought about it once or twice, but never really like that. How to respond to this? He wasn't even sure. "Because I'm needed here," he tried, hoping to convince himself of it again as much as he hoped to convince Hungary. "I'm the doctor in this household, after all. Slovakia and Romania are good, but they have said themselves that they're not as experienced as I am. And you're here, too. How can I leave you alone?"  
" _No!_ " Hungary protested loudly, glaring at him now. " _Bullshit!_ You're not needed here, Gil, not at all! Neither am I! _They_ don't need you to be here, _I_ don't need you, but _Ludwig_ needs you!" She sniffed again, but then stubbornly shut her mouth until she had her breathing under control. "So shut up with your bullshit," the young woman scolded more quietly. With a determined green gaze, she stared up at East Germany. " _Promise me,_ Gilbert," she said in a hushed voice, but insistent. "Promise me that the next time you go to Berlin, _you're not coming back here again._ If you get another chance, then take it! Go to Ludwig and stay with him! I will do the same thing, if I get the chance. I'm done with this prison, and so should you be."  
 _But what about you?_ East wanted to say. Hungary could say this now, but she had nowhere to go. All of her land was controlled by the Soviets. At least East had a home to go to that wasn't under the Soviets' influence.  
She knew this, though. He could see it in her eyes as she looked at him with a glassy but fiery gaze. And in that instant he made his decision. He leant forward a bit and gave her a gentle kiss on the head, then held her closer again. "I promise, Lizzie," he whispered to her. "No matter what, I'll go to Ludwig first chance I get. I'll be there for my little brother again. _I'm going home._ "

* * *

 **So a brief summary of 1956 in this chapter. Although I could have gone deeper into the revolts in both Poland and Hungary, I know. But I thought this would work just as well.  
Also, reconciling with the Benelux. It's about time West tried, right?  
**

 **Oh, I really hope I can keep writing normally from now on, instead of posting like, once a month or something. One more month until university starts, and a week before that, I'm already there for an introductionary week.  
Time is flying by a bit too quickly to my liking...!**

 **Ah, anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a little review on your way out, you're awesome, you know... the whole list~!**


	44. Chapter 44

**Hiya, back again!**

 **Last week I stumbled across a short fic written by someone who used to review nearly every chapter, TheOldKaiser, which was inspired by CYH & HtD (I'm flattered beyond words here~!) It's called Lost Souls and it's really good. I recommend giving it a try!**

 **Anyhow, thanks again to everyone who read, reviewed, all of it!**

 **I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

There was something wet on his face.  
With a grimace, West Germany turned around, intending to sleep a little longer. It was a Sunday morning, he could sleep in, if only somewhat. But then something warm slammed over his shoulder and the side of his face, and the wetness returned. With an annoyed grunt, he recognised it as being licking. A dog's licking, to be precise. But hadn't he closed his bedroom door like he always did?  
West gently pushed the wiggling pup off himself and sat up. Opening his eyes, he saw Blackie hanging on his lap, looking up at him with his tongue hanging from his open mouth. The moment West looked at him, his short tail started wiggling enthusiastically.  
With a soft sigh, West looked to the side of his bed: Aster was on the floor there. The elderly dog lay comfortably, his chin on his front paws, his tail wagging slowly in a sign of quiet satisfaction. And then West finally managed a smile. Aster was a smart dog, having figured out how to open doors. He would jump up on his hind legs, swing one of his front paws over the door handle, and the door would swing open for him. Blackie only too gladly made use of his older companion's skills.  
With an amused chuckle, West lifted Blackie off his lap and got up out of bed. "I'll need to start locking my bedroom door from now on," he said, half to himself. "Aster, if you can open doors, will you also learn how to fill your own bowl so that I can sleep in longer in the future?" But then, he would have to take them both for a walk, too. He loved his dogs, but that they kept him busy even on days that he would otherwise not have any work on could sometimes be somewhat annoying. It was moments like these that made up for all the trouble they sometimes caused, though.  
West quickly got dressed, and before he could leave his bedroom, Aster heaved himself to his paws and went out before him, Blackie dashing after the older dog. The nation watched with a soft sigh. It hurt him to see Aster growing old like this, but he was happy at the same time. After all, for animals and humans alike, the fact that they even got the chance to grow old was a good sign. Aster was 11 years old now, a respectable age for a German Shepherd, and West expected he wouldn't live much longer. That was why he had brought in Blackie now, before Aster died, to give the old dog an energetic companion to lighten up his last days. Also to not make Blackie feel like a replacement for Aster once the old dog would pass. Both things seemed to work out as intended so far, although especially the first: Aster, despite his old age, had livened up since Blackie joined the family, something that still made West happy every time he thought about it. It was exactly as he had hoped it would be.

Later that morning, West was walking with his two dogs by his side, one leash in each hand. Well, that is, Aster was walking by his side. Blackie was dashing from one spot to another, tugging on the leash as he went and sniffed everything there was to sniff and more. As if he didn't walk down the same streets every single morning and afternoon. In the evening they had a shorter walk and a different route. Still, following the same route twice a day, West had thought the little pup would be less interested in his surroundings after two weeks. He had been mistaken, as this was the sixth week since Blackie had come into the house.  
Aster was calmer. The once-energetic dog had really mellowed down since a few years. Once, he had been almost exactly like Blackie now was. Now he strolled leisurely by West's side, wagging his tail as a greeting to certain people they passed, but not leaving his spot right beside West as they walked.  
West, on the other hand, was not feeling quite so at ease anymore. Since a few minutes after waking up, he'd had a slight headache, one which was gradually growing more present. He had been wondering what it was since before he'd left to walk with his two dogs. Going by how it felt, this wasn't a spontaneous headache, but rather one with a political cause. He wasn't completely certain about that, though. He had never been as good at figuring these things out as East Germany was. But then, East had had a few centuries longer to practice: West was only 90 years old, after all. Not even a full century of practice, and he could generally figure out signs of trouble from his own body, albeit not with great detail. He could probably be proud of that, in all honesty.  
This was a tricky one, though. His economy and politics had been improving steadily for years now. What could possibly have happened to mess it up? Maybe he should call someone in the government when he came home. Provided someone would pick up the phone in the first place, it being Sunday. Then again, he did have a lot of personal phone numbers of people in his government. It should work out for him one way or the other.  
Meanwhile, he noticed that some people on the streets were uneasy, too. Twice now he had passed people discussing something in hushed but worried voices. He couldn't catch what they were saying, but it sounded serious. Could it be related to what was causing him a headache? What were the odds of that?  
It might even be all the pondering he was doing that was worsening his pain right now. The nation decided to let it go for now, finish his stroll, and he would come back to this once he came home.

As he neared the border with East Berlin, West felt the same old sadness welling up inside of him. Every day he walked this route, going along the border for a little distance, and every day he hoped his brother would suddenly be there like he had been 8 years ago. How much longer would he have to wait before he could see his brother again? A total of 14 years had passed since they had been separated, and they had been together for only a few meagre weeks during that time. Would the Russians ever allow East Germany to come back home? Had those weeks together been their last?  
He missed Hungary, too, although not with the same intensity he did his brother. He worried for her safety almost as often as he worried about East. Even the other nations forced to live in Moscow, whom he had no emotional connection to at all, were frequently in his thoughts. Poor Poland, to have to suffer so much during the war and then be treated this way by the Russians. Czechoslovakia, both nations representing that country, too, and the Baltic states, all oppressed by the Soviet Union. Romania, Bulgaria, even Russia's own sisters. He felt bad for each and every one of them. Sometimes, he felt bad even for Russia himself. He doubted any nation could ever be happy, having to live like that.  
All his thoughts came to an abrupt end when he went around the corner of the street and saw an unexpected scene in front of him.  
There were more guards than ever before along the border, people on either side watching from a distance, standing in groups, talking worriedly. Others just walked by, trying to ignore everything, but no one could resist sneaking a curious glance or two. Then there were a few coming into the street just now, like West, who stood and stared for just a few heartbeats before turning around and walking away in a hurried pace.  
West Germany had half a mind to do the same thing, but he froze completely when he spotted something beyond the crowd of people and the guards. Torn-up streets, making them impossible to cross other than on foot, and even that might not be an easy task. He immediately understood that this had been done specifically to stop traffic between the two sides of the city, although he didn't understand why.  
What caught his eye most of all, though, was the barbed wire: a barrier of it lay across the border, the entire length of it for all he could see here. He had a nagging feeling he would see the same thing whichever part of the border he went to.  
How had this happened? None of this had been there the day before. Had it all been done overnight? It seemed like an impossible task to him, and he couldn't believe it for a second. Except it was real, and it was right in front of him, as if to mock him and prove him wrong.  
The first thing he could think about once his mind stopped spinning was his brother. Did East Germany know about this? What must he be thinking, if he had seen this mess or heard about it by now? More importantly, how were they ever going to see each other again now? Crossing the border had been difficult enough for West Germany. East didn't have any trouble with the border guards when he was in the city, for some reason, but he was basically never here. Now, it appeared crossing the border was impossible for anyone.  
"Germany!" suddenly came a voice, which nearly made him jump. Someone was approaching him. He didn't recognise the human immediately, but then remembered him. Bernhard. He had met the man at a bar a little while ago, and they had talked for some time. They still greeted one another if they passed each other on the streets, but never really held a conversation of any significance anymore.  
Now the human was walking his way with a strong determination mingled with fear. He looked nervous, and sounded it, too. "Germany," he said with a quivering voice. Some other humans turned around to watch them now, realising that their nation was there. Bernhard's dark brown gaze sparked with anxiety. "What's the meaning of all this?!"  
West could only meet his gaze, and then those of the other people staring at him with the same question in their eyes, and be stunned silent. He felt dizzy as he looked at all those frightened, questioning gazes.  
His mouth felt about as dry as the Sahara when he finally managed to speak. "I… I don't know…"

* * *

East felt as if his heart could burst from his chest any moment now, its pounding growing harder with every step he took.  
 _"You can go back to Berlin for a little while now, East."_ That's what Russia had told him a few weeks ago, when East Germany had complained about a nagging headache and said he wanted to find out what the cause was -no one in his government had answered his questions for some reason. Russia had been more open and also more willing to allow him to go check it out. He had narrowed his eyes in a warning at one point, however. _"Just so long as you don't think you'll be visiting that capitalist brother of yours again."_  
Only in Russia's wildest dreams would he not. Also, why did Russia have to put such emphasis on 'capitalist'? West was just West, even if he was unfortunately short-sighted enough to not see the merits of communism. For some reason West could only see the bad side of the ideology his brother now lived by, one that had kept him alive and brought relative stability to his ever declining health for 14 years now. It's not like East _liked_ everything the Soviet Union and his own communist government did, far from it even, but if he sat down and thought about it he could not deny that, to him personally, it might well be the best thing to have happened to him since the reunion with his little brother after the war.  
East just knew that if he had to live as a capitalist, left to fend for himself in a constantly complicating world economy after the mess of the war, he might not even be living anymore now. West was doing well last he'd seen him, but he feared the day his younger brother's economy would come crashing down again like it had in the past when everyone they had depended on dragged them down with them. It was a day he knew would come, sooner or later, and maybe then West's government would make a turn to communism after all.  
 _And if that happens,_ East thought excitedly, _maybe we'll be allowed to be together again!_ It was only West's capitalism and ties with the United States of America that made East's government and the Soviet Union forbid East Germany from having contact with his brother. Another reason he disliked that ideology. And since capitalism might kill East with the next economic crash, both Germans becoming communists seemed like the way to go right now.  
Maybe when he saw West again later today, he could talk to him about this.  
Of course it had been years since he'd last walked through these streets, and things had changed during his absence, but he was still pretty certain he could walk straight to his little brother's house without making a single wrong turn. He had done it every day when he had been here years ago.  
 _Turn left here, then second right after that,_ he went over the route in his head, unable to suppress a smile. _Cross the border -I've got my papers with me, right? Yes, yes, I have them. Then on the other side, go into the third street on the right._  
Oh, how precious West's expression would be when he saw East. If he could have sent him a letter beforehand, East wouldn't even have done it. He wanted to surprise his younger brother. And if West wasn't home when he arrived, he would wait around until he came back. Hopefully that mangy mutt, Aster, wasn't around anymore after so many years, though. How old could German Shepherds get, anyway?  
East Germany had to actively stop himself from skipping around the last corner before he would get to the border. He felt as if he could sprout wings any second now and fly to his brother's house in mere seconds, he was that happy.  
And then all that happiness came crashing down and falling apart.  
There was a barrier of barbed wire on the border, armed men standing guard. The ground near it had been torn up.  
The only thing he could think as he was looking at this was that no one was going to be crossing that border anymore now. He was not going to see his little brother. Exactly as Russia had told him.  
"Looks nasty, doesn't it?"  
East Germany jumped in shock at these sudden words. Startled and with his heart racing in his chest, he turned around to see a human close to him. The man was staring at the barrier in silence, then scoffed softly before looking at the nation again. "This your first time seeing it, kid?" he asked with his eyes narrowed in curiosity. "You look like you're going to faint. Are you all right?"  
East nodded slowly, staring back at the barrier in front of him. "I'm… I'm fine," he managed to choke out. "I was just… shocked."  
The man hummed. "They're making a wall out of it," he informed the albino nation. "Further down, some of the wall they're building is already standing. Pretty darn high one, too. But say, have you been living under a rock, that you haven't heard about this yet?" The human sniffed once. "If the whole damn world hasn't heard about this yet, then I don't know when they ever will."  
"Not a rock," East replied with a sigh. "Just with people who are experts in keeping important information from me." Sadly he gazed at the closed border. "I was going to visit my little brother in the West…"  
For the first time, the human's expression softened a little. "Well, I'm sorry to say, kid," he warned East gently, "it's not a good idea to try and cross the border. A few days ago, a man tried to swim across the Spree Canal to get into West Berlin, and he was shot. Those guards aren't armed just for show."  
Any hope that East still felt of being able to see West again dissolved when he heard those words. He felt as if the ground crumbled from underneath him, and he only just managed to choke out 'thank you' to the man for giving him this information and the warning. Then, with his legs feeling shaky as he walked, the nation turned around and walked away, stumbling back to the hotel he was staying at. He didn't feel like being out here anymore now.

* * *

Weeks passed and turned into months. East Germany wasn't called back to Moscow yet by the end of the year. He'd talked to Russia on the phone a few times, and the Russian had told him that now, after these new measures had been taken, by which he meant the wall being built, the nations in Moscow could start living in their own lands for parts of the year again. Berlin had been the easiest access to the West, now it was the most difficult. And also, Russia had explained very calmly, the one with highest 'flight-risk', as they called it, had been East Germany. Now that the chance of him leaving had been eliminated altogether, the others could also get some more freedom. That's what Khrushchev, the current leader of the Soviet Union, had told Russia when East had first been allowed back to Berlin in August.  
The Soviet Union had been quick to arrange a permanent home for East Germany in Berlin, much like the western Allies had done for West Germany years ago. It was an apartment, fourth floor, nice view over the street. Thank God there was another high building blocking his view of the wall, though. He wasn't sure what he would have done if he'd had to wake up and see that structure first thing in the morning each day.  
It took some getting used to. Living on his own again. Having to look after himself. Being alone.  
It wasn't so much that he was incapable of any of those things, because of course he wasn't. He was simply used to having people around him now who would work together day in and day out, support each other even if it didn't always feel like it. To have people to talk to who were in the exact same situation that he was in. People who knew how he felt and of whom he knew how they felt. He was used to splitting the work equally in every possible way. Or to working by a schedule, one that he soon found himself recreating and adapting so that he would have similar guidelines here.  
In short, he was used to being a communist now. Life in Moscow may not have been simple, but it had certainly been clear and easy to follow. It had been what he had come to despise, yet also unknowingly depended on.  
He missed Hungary's company. He also missed Estonia and Romania and Bulgaria and Ukraine. Even Poland, Lithuania and Latvia, the people he got along with least of all.  
That it even went so far that he missed Russia was something he found out the third time he had called the other nation, when he had been in a near panic, not knowing what to do about the whole situation anymore. Hearing Russia's gentle, level-headed response had calmed him right back down until he felt entirely at ease again.  
"Think of it this way, East," Russia had told him calmly, no mocking tone in his voice or a dominating one, no anger and no disdain. Only calm. "No people will be leaving the country anymore now, so the issue of Brain Drain is solved. Your economy can recover and your country can continue to exist. It can begin to _thrive_ again. So can you! And on the other hand, no one can come into the country anymore, either, so no capitalism can poison the minds of your people and throw everything off balance after all. I know it may not seem like it right now, but that wall is a blessing to you and your people, not a curse. As for your little brother, I swear to you that you will see him again. It's just that he's America's pawn, unfortunately, and you know that we cannot trust America right now."  
Right. America was on the verge of starting another war. Against the Soviet Union this time, and the other communist states. They were quite meddlesome, trying to prevent nations from becoming communist. Now East Germany didn't want his government to go capitalist because he knew it would be bad for him, but he didn't condemn capitalism entirely. So why would _they_ condemn communism?  
In the end, East Germany had nodded, his mind put at ease again, and thanked Russia for helping.  
It was in February the next year that East was staring at his calendar, counting off the days until he could go back to Moscow, much to his own surprise. The start of March. That's when he could go back, when he could see Hungary and the others again. When things would hopefully start making sense again, and when he wouldn't have to look at that wall anymore.  
It was strange, he thought, how different his thoughts and feelings were a decade and a bit down the line. Even over the past few months, things had changed significantly. Before the wall, he would have given anything to go to Berlin, just to have a chance to be with his little brother. Now that he had no hope of doing that, he loathed the city, and he hated having to be there. It wasn't so much that he wanted to be in Moscow per se, but it was better than having to be in Berlin.  
It truly was a strange thing…

* * *

"I'm not provoking anyone!"  
"All right, calm down, America. All I'm saying is, please take care that you won't end up doing so somehow."  
West let out a long sigh, gingerly rubbing his forehead a bit as he listened to England trying to reason with America. He already had a headache, and their voices -though mainly America's- weren't helping him at all. At least he wasn't the only nation who seemed to be getting annoyed with America's attitude by now: not too far away from him, Netherlands stared at the younger nation through narrowed eyes, irritation clear in every line of his features. Belgium sat beside her brother and had decided to clean her nails as she waited for the meeting to continue normally. Luxembourg appeared to be doodling.  
West Germany couldn't ignore any nations so openly at these meetings: he feared his reputation still needed to improve a whole lot before they would forgive him for it as easily as they did others. And if he was right about that, well, he couldn't even think it unfair. He still had a lot to make up for, and if that meant listening to nations arguing even while his head was pounding, then so be it.  
He could understand that America was so tense and short-tempered right now, though. Frankly, West didn't feel much more at ease than him most of the time. The Soviet Union was on the brink of starting a war against the United States and perhaps others. If that happened, there wasn't much hope that the world could even pull through.  
America loved to emphasise how dire the situation could become, considering the Soviet Union had nuclear weapons in their possession, the type of weapon America had used to end the war against Japan. The type of weapon that had previously killed millions and nearly killed Japan in the process, and which could destroy nearly the entire planet if used on a larger scale.  
The entire situation wasn't exactly beneficial to one's peace of mind, to say the least.  
The young nation wished he could disappear when America turned to him, still speaking as loudly as before. "Yo, Germany," he said. "Any news on the Wall?"  
West sighed again. "It's a pain to get from West Berlin to the rest of the country and vice-versa," he reported flatly. "There's still no way of crossing the border into East Berlin, there's been no migration between the two halves of the city at all. Oh, and my head is going to explode one of these days. But other than that, I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more than last time you asked."  
"I'm still wondering what their reasons are for shutting off West Berlin from the world," France said, not to anyone in particular. "I mean, I _sort of_ get it, but I don't think I'll ever understand why they did it."  
America scoffed at this. "Because they're communists, that's why!" he replied angrily, growing even more tense. "Russia's made puppets out of all those nations. I'm starting to fear they're all beyond saving by now, the entire Eastern Bloc! There have been no true uprisings since the one in Hungary years ago, and now one of those states even builds a wall between it and another nation?" He gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. "That damn commie has brainwashed them all. By now, I believe they're not even the ones who need saving: if things get any worse than this, the rest of the world will need to be saved _from_ them."  
Those final words angered West, and he narrowed his eyes at America. "I'm sure that's not true, not for all of them. Russia's a threat, I know that. But surely people like Hungary and my brother-"  
"You're brother's government are the ones who built the Wall in the first place," America countered.  
France nodded. "And to be fair, West, your brother always has been quick-tempered and violent. If he's in league with Russia as we fear, I'm sad to say, he might be the biggest threat of all."  
For a moment, West almost thought the better of it and didn't say a word. But he couldn't let this slide. "Well, he won't be anything like that anymore," he insisted. "I don't know if any of you have noticed, but my brother is _physically incapable_ of being like that now! I get that you're worried about what Russia might do, but please leave my brother -and all the others, too- out of this."  
France seemed surprised at this. "Physically incapable?" he echoed, confused. "How?"  
West shrugged and looked away. "He's not exactly healthy enough to exert himself like that. You abolished him," he added, allowing himself to sound just the slightest bit accusing when he said this. "What did you expect? He wasn't doing so well before that and I doubt dissolution was the miracle medicine he needed to get better. Chances are, my brother's fighting days are done for good." Discomfort flooding his mind, West prayed he had corrected his earlier mistake with this explanation. Surely by now East wouldn't mind it if others knew of his situation, even if just a bit? West couldn't imagine there to be a single nation on this planet who would not understand East Germany's health had taken a turn for the worse after the dissolution of Prussia. That they didn't know the extent, well, he couldn't blame them for that: no one had seen East Germany in a long time, after all. Not anyone who wasn't part of the Eastern Bloc, that is.  
West just cleared his throat then. "As for the others," he went on as calmly as he could, "I think we shouldn't worry about them too much, either. Hungary's people displayed their dislike of the conditions they're forced to live in a while ago. And do you really expect them to rise up again after that massacre? I think it's wise that they're not doing any such thing right now. The same goes for the Polish. And let's not forget, Poland himself was locked up in Auschwitz for most of the war and tortured like my brother has been." The young nation had to force himself to say these words, shame making him dizzy, even though he'd had nothing to do with this particular thing. "He won't want to stand up to Russia and make things worse for himself now, so soon after he went through all that. But he'll also do anything to stay out of any war. Czechoslovakia, too, I believe, they shouldn't be a threat." He paused for a moment, wondering if there was anything else he had to say. Then he finished carefully: "All I'm trying to say is… Don't pin Russia's faults on the others. Unless there is definitive proof that they also pose a threat to us and to world peace, I believe it would be unfair to treat them as our enemies."  
"We already _have_ that proof," America retorted bluntly. "And it's called the Warsaw Pact. They're working together, Germany. And when Russia starts a war, the others will follow."  
West shook his head. How could America be so short-sighted? "They only have the Warsaw Pact because we have NATO!"  
This proved to be one step too far. America gave West Germany a cold look for his words, and he wasn't the only one. "And you believe NATO is a bad thing?" He said this so coldly, so accusingly, that West had half a mind to cower from him and simply walk away now. And not return.  
 _Did I ruin it now?_ he wondered frantically. _Why did I say such a thing? I should have known they wouldn't take it well!_ Again, he shook his head, but this time slowly and with clear shame. "No, that's… That isn't what I meant, America," he defended himself tentatively. "NATO protects us and the rest of the world, I know that. It's just…" But he knew that nothing he would say now would correct his mistake in America's eyes, or any of the others, and he stared down at his desk. "Never mind…"  
West Germany didn't say another word for the rest of the meeting, only listened uncomfortably to what the others had to say. Thankfully, it didn't last very long anymore.

After the meeting, West planned to go straight to where he and his human representative were staying for the week, but he didn't get the chance when Italy Veneziano came after him.  
The older nation was smiling happily. "Hey, Ludwig!" he greeted his friend in an upbeat manner. If he was trying to cheer the other up with this, West thought with a silent sigh, then he sadly failed. Veneziano just kept smiling though. "Say, I was wondering if you'd like to come to Venice for some time before you head back home," he said. "Think of it as a short vacation. I think you deserve one, what with everything that's happened lately."  
Taken by surprise, West stared at him in silence for a moment before he found his voice back. "W-well, I… I'd love to, thank you. But I'm afraid I can't, I-"  
"Actually," came another voice, and West immediately whipped around to see a human coming their way. The man representing West Germany at the non-nation led meetings. A tiny smile played on his lips as he looked at his nation. "I think you can go with Italy for a little while. No, actually, you _should_." He paused for a few seconds, giving the nation a firm pat on the shoulder. "You need a break, Ludwig. I think you really should take Italy up on that offer. And if anyone back home disagrees, _I'll_ answer for it, not you. I am, after all, giving you my permission to leave for the time being."  
For a few heartbeats, West was speechless, but then he gratefully nodded. "Thank you. I will do so, then." Then he suddenly remembered one other issue, and he turned to Italy again. "Uh, that is, if it's all right that Aster and Blackie come as well -there isn't anyone at home who can look after them in my stead right now."  
Italy Veneziano's face lit up even more than it already was at this. "Those dogs? Come on, Ludwig, you know I love them both to bits! They're as welcome as you are." He grinned a little at West. "Well then, go and get your stuff, and I'll see you at the hotel this evening!" Having said that, the sunny nation happily skipped away, leaving West to wonder what had just happened.  
Well, whatever it was, really, he was pleased with it.

* * *

Days later, West was in Venice with Italy, and neither nation was spending any time at all on work. Veneziano had been rather blunt about that to his government, stating rather than asking that he was going to take some time off. Miraculously, that had been accepted.  
Aster and Blackie seemed to like the city as much as West did, except there wasn't really anywhere to take them for a walk, so every day the two nations would take the dogs out of the city where at least there was enough grass and trees. They couldn't very well let them use the streets as a toilet.  
There was one day where Italy spent the afternoon painting, and West was more than content with sitting there with him, reading a book and watching the master do his work. The Italian was truly an amazing artist, still painting in the same style he'd had since the Renaissance. And that lack of development, in this case, was one of the best things he could have done. West was amazed at the realism of the flowers and the trees he painted, the water and the sky. People, too, he painted as well as if they were photographs. It was quite a scene to watch.  
In the end, West didn't do much reading that afternoon, instead watching his friend paint and glancing around at the finished paintings he had scattered about. They were all over the room, on the floor and the walls, some empty canvases still on shelves. There was truly only one stretch of wall still unused for hanging paintings; instead, there was a large curtain hanging there, for decoration, West presumed.  
Although when he looked at it a little longer, he noticed the curtain was bulging, as if it hung not on the wall, but rather on something else that was hanging on the wall. He was surprised to recognise the hidden object as another canvas.  
"Is that a single painting?" he asked, astonished by it. The canvas looked massive.  
Italy looked up from his current project, following the younger nation's gaze. "Oh, yes, it is," he answered casually. "That one's been a work-in-progress for about twenty years now."  
Twenty years for one painting? That must be one gorgeous painting, if he spent so much time on it. "May I see it?" West asked, curious to see what could be on such a large canvas.  
To his surprise, Italy Veneziano immediately shook his head. "I'd rather you didn't," he said dismissively. "That I've been working on it for so long doesn't guarantee that it's good, you know. It's one of my worst pieces." With a smirk, he looked over his shoulder at West. "And I can't have you thinking less of me just after I've got you all entranced with my art, now can I?" He chuckled and shook his head in amusement, turning back to his painting.  
West was, admittedly, a little disappointed, but he wouldn't try to insist on it: Veneziano had clearly stated he didn't want the younger nation to see that particular painting, and West could accept that.  
"Do you ever sell any of your paintings?" the German asked a little while later, if only to start a conversation.  
Italy nodded. "If I didn't, I would need about two new houses just to store all those canvases!" he quipped, chuckling a little. "I don't often sell them, though. Only when I'm short on money. More often than selling my work, I donate my paintings to small galleries or auctions at charity fundraisers. You know, so that I'll actually do something useful for my people when I waste my days away in my workshop."  
His answer didn't surprise West Germany one bit, but he was still impressed with it. "That sounds great," he said in response. "My hobbies don't really have any extra benefits like that for society, I'm afraid. And I don't really have time for anything like that, either, if I have to be honest."  
Italy shrugged. "Well, it's not like you _have_ to do stuff like this," he said calmly. "I just so happen to enjoy painting, that's all, really. Well, that, and I don't have the space to keep all my work myself."  
West looked around the room again, all the canvases scattered everywhere. This was a collection of how long? If Italy had been painting for some 1000 years now, as he had told West Germany once, he could probably build a palace with all the canvases he had used in that time. Maybe two. Furniture included. He glanced at the large, hidden canvas again. With things of that size, he could make a wardrobe out of a few. Two stacked up on the front and the back, two on each side and two for the bottom and top. Just eight of those things would make for a large wardrobe fit for a prince.  
Chuckling to himself, West then went on reading again.

* * *

If anyone had told East a year ago that he would feel this good walking back into the house in Moscow, he would have laughed at them. For at least an hour straight, too. But right now, he could only feel relieved when he opened the door and walked inside, dragging his suitcase after him. He could stay here for a few months again before he had to go back to Berlin. He would make the most of his time here.  
Russia was there, of course, and he came to greet East Germany with a smile. "So, how was it to be back in Berlin for a little while?" he asked innocently.  
East just sighed. "Not as good as I had hoped," he answered honestly. "I didn't think I would, but I missed this place and everyone here. And the daily schedules. The routine. Hell, I even missed the food here." He chuckled sheepishly, shrugging. "So yeah, I suppose I'm glad to be back."  
Russia blinked in surprise, his eyes twinkling when he heard this. "Really?" He sounded as if he couldn't believe it. "I thought you still disliked it here."  
 _Was it that obvious?_ East shook his head. "I thought I did, too," he confessed. "Until I couldn't be here for months on end and I started missing it. I guess I don't dislike this place and its stupid, apparently-not-so-stupid rules as much as I thought I did." _After so many years,_ he added in silence, _one tends to grow dependent on routines like we have here…_  
Russia only smiled even wider. "I'm glad you think so!" he burst out happily. "I hope the others feel the same way. I'm sure that would make life here even better, if we all enjoy being here more!"  
"Which, in turn," East added as he hung up his coat, "would make being here even more enjoyable. It can only get better."  
"Exactly!" Russia agreed with a happy nod. Less enthusiastically, he said: "I'm glad that you're all coming back for a little while, too. It's lonely without everyone here, and it's even worse to have to worry about that stupid American all by myself."  
This last sentence piqued East's interest, and he looked at Russia with a curious -and slightly uneasy- gaze. "Has he gotten worse?" America was becoming quite a pest, watching the Soviet Union's every move and silently threatening them with a new war. It was starting to get on East's nerves as much as it did Russia's by now.  
The younger nation sighed and nodded. "Unfortunately, it's not getting any better yet," he replied softly. "Things between our leaders are still so tense… I'm actually scared sometimes. You know what his bombs did to Japan. What if he does the same to us? And, after so many years, maybe he's even improved those godforsaken bombs and made them even more destructive and dangerous." He nibbled on his lip and looked away, worry and fear clear in his expression. "If America starts a war with nuclear weapons," he said in a soft voice, half to himself, "it'll be the end of the world…"  
East didn't know how to respond for a moment, but then he gave the taller man a pat on his shoulder. "It'll be all right," he tried to reassure him. "We're not letting that happen. If America and the NATO attack you, we'll have your back. You know that. We made that promise years ago."  
Russia huffed. "Yeah," he muttered softly. "And then we'll all die together." Then he was quiet for a moment and shook his head. "No, you're right," he then said with more conviction again. "We'll do whatever we can to prevent a war from starting. And if America does attack, we'll be ready."  
East nodded approvingly. "Now, I'd better start unpacking," he said, moving past Russia with his suitcase. He smiled at the younger nation as he walked past him. "It really is good to be back, you know? See you in a bit!"  
If anyone had told him a few years ago that he would hold friendly conversations with Russia and would ever genuinely smile at the tall, intimidating nation, he would have laughed at them and never stopped laughing again.  
But right now, he could only be happy that things had turned out this way.

* * *

 **So yeah, some more Cold War in this chapter than there has been. I've kind of been neglecting that one. Oops.**

 **Anyone notice a development here? Yeah... Inevitable, that one, I believe. After so long, you get used to things, and then...**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you liked this chapter!**


	45. Chapter 45

**Hiya! Well, this chapter might be a bit shorter than usual, but I hope you'll enjoy it!**

 **Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and/or followed!**

 **Then, uh... Yeah. Next week will be busy, the week after that I won't have a laptop and I'll be at the introduction week at my university, the week after that, university starts. 2017 loves to keep me too busy to write at a normal pace. But hey, even if I have to switch to a biweekly update instead of a weekly one, that's okay. (right?)**

 **Anyways, I hope you like this chapter!**

* * *

Years passed slowly after the Wall was built. West Germany spent his days working and looking after his dogs. Aster passed away one afternoon in 1963 at the respectable age of 13. In 1966, West came into contact with a breeder of German Shepherds who was interested in breeding a litter with Blackie. West accepted, on the condition that he got one of the pups. That's how he ended up with his third dog in '67, Blackie's daughter Sage.  
Work kept him busy in the 60s. The economy had a slump, which meant that he had both more work to do and less stamina to do it. But he got through all right, and soon he was back on his feet as well as he had been at the start of the decade.  
But when he was still on his own by the year 1971, he only felt miserable each day. He had never really cared much for his age, but he couldn't deny that this year, when he was a century old, was a special one. He knew that, even if he didn't care much, his brother most certainly did. The young nation knew for a certainty that East would have made something special out of it. Right now, the most special thing he could think of was to even see his brother again in the first place. But he also knew for a certainty that it wasn't going to happen. He doubted he would ever see East again by now. A few weeks had been all the time they'd had together in 24 years.  
West had spent a quarter of his life separated from his elder brother.

Early that year, Austria was in Berlin again to visit, which helped West take his mind off how much he missed East for a little while. Only how much he missed his elder brother, though: he still expressed his worry for his health and his safety frequently, and even doubted that he was still alive once.  
Until Austria got tired of it, that is. "Ludwig, stop it," he said one afternoon, sighing deeply. "You're only making it harder on yourself this way. I'm sure he's fine: it's Gilbert we're talking about, after all. It doesn't matter whether his name is Prussia or East Germany, he's incredibly strong, and probably wouldn't take kindly to your underestimation of his endurance."  
"But it's been almost 25 years!" West protested, his heart racing in his chest. "Do you know what 25 years did for him in the past? He'd changed from a War God to a stroke patient with a limp in that time. And 25 years after that- Actually, I don't even know! What _was_ he like in '57?" The young German huffed and shook his head. "It doesn't even matter, anyway. I know that it took him less than 25 years after his stroke to almost die from pneumonia. He really _could_ be dead for all we know, Roderich," he stated, his voice quivering on those words. "It's not like those goddamn communists would care enough to inform us of it!"  
Austria only blinked now. It looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't seem able to find the words. Then he sighed. "Tell you what, Ludwig," he began in a much softer tone. "A number of the Eastern Bloc nations attend the UN General Assembly. Hungary is there now, and Poland and others. At first, Russia would represent them all -don't ask me why- but since a few years they are all allowed to be there, too. I can ask them about Gilbert and I'll tell you, all right?" An idea seemed to spark his mind then, and he added with a smile: "Either that, or I take you with me so that you can ask them yourself. And I bet you'll want to see Hungary as much as I do."  
West's heart skipped a beat at these words. "S-seriously?" He could barely believe it. He had been wanting to become a part of the United Nations for a while now. Maybe in the future he would. He hadn't thought he would see what it was like before then, though. "Is that even permitted?" he couldn't help but ask.  
Austria didn't answer immediately, thinking it over for a moment. "Well," he answered pensively. "Chances are you won't be allowed into the meetings. You might not even be allowed into the building. But they can't keep you from entering New York, now can they? If we really need to, I'm sure Hungary can be convinced to come into the city to meet you. She'd jump at the chance, even."  
West smiled at the thought. Even if he couldn't see East, Hungary was almost as good. She wasn't his brother, of course not, but she was like a sister to him. A good alternative, even if he would still miss East Germany as much as ever.  
"If you're certain it's allowed," West said with a tiny smile still on his lips, "then I would love to come with you. Thank you, Roderich."  
Austria shrugged. "Hey, if it's to shut you up," he joked, chuckling as he spoke. He leant over to West and ruffled up his neatly combed hair with a smirk. "And hey, my precious little cousin is almost a century old now -there's some experiences you have to have before then! Meeting half the world is one of those things. Well, that is," he added more sheepishly. "Nowadays it is. Back when I was your age, that was kind of impossible. Half the world wasn't even discovered yet for us here in Europe."  
For this, West could only give him a weird look. "I'm pretty sure I would be the only one to meet half the world before I'm 100 years old," he said. "Or at least one of the very few."  
Now, the Austrian sighed and rolled his eyes. "You just have to take the fun out of everything, don't you?" Then, with a smile, he added: "I'll just ask around if it's permitted, then. You'd better ask your government for permission, too, and hopefully we can get this done."  
West smiled and nodded, thanking his cousin for offering this chance.

* * *

Two months later, West Germany was in New York with Austria, standing just outside the UN building where the meetings would begin soon. Austria had been right that West wasn't allowed into the meetings, not even as an onlooker, but at least he was there and not stuck at home. At least he could think of other things than his workload. Sage was being looked after by a neighbour, so that was also one less thing to worry about. Hopefully he could really take some time off here, something he hadn't had for a while now.  
He and Austria hadn't talked to many nations yet, but a few had walked past them and said a quick greeting to Austria before giving West weird looks. No one had asked about it yet, though. He couldn't even tell whether the looks they gave him were ones of curiosity or of animosity, and that didn't make him feel much at ease.  
One nation who had stopped to talk for a little while was Japan, much to West's relief: the old nation was still as friendly as ever, like he had been during their time as allies. He had calmly asked why the younger nation was there when he wasn't a member of the UN, and he had accepted the answer just as calmly. He hadn't made any other comments about it, which West Germany really appreciated. He didn't want to go into this topic too deeply with anyone.  
Other nations who had bothered to hold a short conversation were the Benelux siblings, who now sat at a little distance from them. They, too, had accepted West's presence quickly and even encouraged him to get to know other nations while he was there. West had thanked them and said that he would, although he had no interest in doing any such thing. Not before they had found Hungary and talked to her and heard about East from her.  
A few minutes after that, when Austria and West were in the middle of a conversation together, Austria suddenly looked at something beyond West, stopping what he had been saying. "Ah, the United Kingdom has arrived as well, I see?"  
West looked around to see England and, to his surprise, Northern Ireland approaching them, just as Austria greeted England. The old kingdom gave a short nod. "It certainly has been a while," he said politely. "Good to see you, Austria." Then, with a curious shimmer in his eyes, he looked at West Germany instead. His voice was calm as he spoke, though. "It's a surprise to see you here, West," he said. "What brings you here? Wish to become a member?"  
West nodded and was about to answer, but Austria did that for him before he had the chance to say anything. Most annoyingly. "He just needed to get away from home for a little while," Austria said a little too honestly. He might say he's fine all the time, but I know better." The look he gave West, one that clearly showed how much he cared for his cousin, made it a little better to the young nation. He still didn't particularly like Austria being so open to other nations, though. The Austrian then shrugged. "Well, that, and I was hoping to find Hungary or Romania or any of the others, and get them to tell Ludwig personally that Gilbert is doing just fine."  
"I know he's fine, Roderich," West then said with a soft sigh, still annoyed. "You said it yourself several times. It's Gilbert we're talking about. He somehow always manages." He turned to look at England then, explaining: "I'm not allowed into the meetings, but I'm still glad to be here. I do wish to become a member someday, after all."  
Austria looked down at Northern Ireland. "And who is this young man?" he asked in an upbeat yet calm tone. "Northern Ireland, I take it?"  
North nodded. "I am. Nice to meet you, Austria." The young nation, who had grown a lot since West had last seen him in 1947, turned to West instead. "How have you been, Ludwig?"  
West shrugged a little uncomfortably. "I'm fine, thanks." He wasn't sure how much of the typical childlike curiosity Northern Ireland still possessed, but he didn't want to take chances. So he switched the topic to the first best thing he could think about that might distract North now.  
"You're fifty now, aren't you?" he asked casually, hoping this would prevent Northern Ireland from asking any questions he did not want to answer. "Time's flying by, isn't it?"  
Northern Ireland nodded enthusiastically, but then narrowed his eyes in curiosity. "How do you know that?" he asked, a little confused.  
"Well, uh," West answered, stammering just a little bit now. He really didn't want to hold this conversation. Or any conversation, for that matter. "This year's my centennial, and since there's fifty years between us, that means you must be fifty. And I recall your birthday being in April, which has already been, so-"  
Northern Ireland cut him off. "Your _centennial_?" he asked with awe in his voice. "Congratulations!" But the young nation quickly fell quiet, his enthusiasm fading, and he didn't say a word after that until England said they had to go and took his little brother with him. The boy just said a quick goodbye to the two Germanic nations and followed England, disappearing from sight soon after.  
The two cousins were silent for a minute or so, until Austria sighed. "Well," he said softly, "you could have handled that better, you know?"  
"But I didn't have to," West answered dismissively. "This was just fine. I seriously didn't want him to stand around asking annoying questions." He didn't look at Austria as he said this, instead glancing around at the nations scattered about the square.  
"Annoying questions?" Austria inquired carefully. "Or _difficult_ questions?"  
"Same difference," West just grumbled, glad when Austria didn't press for another answer. The young German just continued looking around, hoping to spot Hungary somewhere.  
Austria seemed to know what he was doing. "She'll be here, Ludwig," he said reassuringly, giving the nation a pat on the shoulder as he spoke. "And the others will, too. Just have patience."  
Easier said than done, though. So many years had passed since he had last seen Hungary, and now that he knew she was here, he couldn't wait. Hungary had always played a significant role in his life, ever since he had been a toddler. He longed to see her again almost as much as he did East.

Thankfully, they didn't have to wait long. The entire Eastern Bloc, or the nations who came to the UN meetings anyway, always arrived together according to Austria, and they did now, too. At first, Russia had made a big deal out of it if any of them wanted to go off on their own to talk to someone, but by now he wasn't so bad anymore. So when Hungary spotted Austria and West Germany and she turned to Russia, he was quick to nod. Having permission to leave now, Hungary dashed away from the group and ran over to the two Germanic nations.  
She was nearly squealing something incomprehensible when she was close to them, just before she jumped and tackled West. " _Ludwig!_ " the Hungarian burst out, her voice high-pitched as if she was on the verge of tears. Which, West saw when she leant back and looked up at him, she really was. "Oh, God, Ludwig, it has been so long!"  
Hungary let go of West for just a moment to embrace Austria and greet him with similar enthusiasm. Then she looked up at the young nation again. "It's so good to see you, Ludwig," she choked out, her voice still quivering with emotion. "Oh, sweetie, you look so well. I'm glad. I've worried about you more than I like! Gilbert, too-" She fell quiet abruptly, her eyes widening. "Oh! You want to hear about Gil, don't you? Don't you worry about him one second, sweetie, he's doing excellent."  
The very instant he heard these words, it was as if a weight fell from West's shoulders, and he sighed in relief. East was doing well.  
Hungary went on without pausing. "He had a bit of a hard time after the wall was built," she explained hurriedly. "But then, so did we all, being sent back to our capitals all of a sudden. But that's been so long, he got over it just like we all did. He's been very healthy, too. Well, except last year -a new economic plan failed, and he fell ill for a little while. Thankfully we were all in Moscow then, so he wasn't alone and recovered quickly. His economy is steadily improving, though, and that's plain to see." She just kept on talking, so fast that West wondered vaguely if she was even breathing at all. "Gil is also starting to get along with Poland better, although they're not exactly friends. I doubt they'll ever be. Lithuania doesn't always sneer at him anymore, and Latvia doesn't make as much fun of him anymore these days, either. He's trying to become a part of the UN now."  
Now, West's heart began racing. "He is?" Excitement filled his entire being. "So am I!" Maybe he could see his brother at UN meetings someday, if they both managed to be accepted. The mere thought of it left him dizzy with bliss. It made him more impatient than ever to be accepted here.  
"Oh, and, Ludwig," Hungary then said, more softly now, cutting into his thoughts. The German looked at her again, realising he'd been lost in thought for a few seconds, perhaps a minute or so. Hungary was smiling warmly at him, her eyes shining with love. "Happy centennial, sweetie."  
West couldn't help but smile now, too. "Thanks." Then as Hungary went on to apologise that she and East couldn't be with him in October -they had been begging for it for well over a year now and they were still always told 'no'- West shook his head. "That's okay," he assured her. "It's good enough to know you tried. I know that it's impossible. Will you tell brother that I still miss him when you go back? And that I'm doing fine, in case he was worried I wasn't?"  
Hungary nodded, still smiling wide. "Of course." She reached up and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I love you, sweetie. And so does Gilbert. He still talks about you almost every day, wondering if you're all right, what you're doing at that moment…" Then she sighed and looked down. "I need to go now, I'm afraid. Russia didn't want me to stay away too long. But so long as we're all here, I'll see you again. All right?"  
West nodded. He watched with a slight pang of sadness as Hungary left after giving Austria another hug and saying goodbye to him also, but he still felt a million times better now than he had before.  
He had seen Hungary for the first time in a quarter of a century. He'd heard about East's condition from someone who actually saw him on a daily basis. Nothing could ruin this day for him now.  
Best of all, though, was knowing that his brother might one day be here at the UN as a member. And maybe he would be, too. Even if they were separated at home, here on this international ground, they could see each other and talk to each other again someday.

* * *

East Germany was both overjoyed and saddened when Hungary and the others came back from the UN meeting and his old friend told him she had seen West there. His little brother had accompanied Austria all the way to New York to find out about East and how he had been the past years. The albino was happy to know that Austria took the time to look after West now that East couldn't. If West had to be alone all the time… He wasn't even sure how he would feel, other than that he would be far from happy about it.  
On the other hand, knowing that Hungary and the others all saw his little brother while he had been stuck in Moscow with the other few nations who were left behind each year… He couldn't possibly begin to deny that he was jealous. Deeply so. Hungary knew that, that much was obvious when she looked at him guiltily after telling him all this. East wasn't angry at her, of course he wasn't. But at that moment, hearing her talk about seeing West had simply been too painful, and he had stood up and left without a word. Thankfully, she understood why he'd done so.  
And now it was October. 3 October. West Germany's 100th birthday. It didn't feel as if a century had passed since East, as Prussia, had been faced with a new-born country that he was suddenly expected to raise. Yet it also felt as if it had been a millennium since he had been separated from that precious little nation.  
Hungary was with him in his apartment in Berlin, to celebrate West's centennial together, even though to East it felt more like they were grieving. He was, anyway. For all the years he had been kept from his little brother.  
"He was such a sweet kid when he was little," the albino nation mused, half to himself, staring into his glass of red wine. "He was troublesome, as all kids are, but he was so kind, so caring, even at a young age." East smiled sadly as he remembered the day Bismarck had visited him and indirectly told him that his family had been killed. East had been pretty upset that day, and West Germany, a tiny little kid, had been trying to comfort him, hugging him and telling him not to cry, it was okay.  
Weeks later, when they had finally gone to Austria and Hungary after concluding that nearly their entire family was dead, the boy had done the same thing again. Comforting his elder brother as best he could.  
Hungary sipped her own wine and nodded. "He still is," she agreed softly. "Kind and caring. But so serious sometimes, it can be hard to see if you don't know him well. I think that's one of the reasons other nations still don't like him much after the war."  
East didn't respond for a moment, but then he sighed. "That's one trait I wish he hadn't inherited from me," he said in a soft voice, his heart breaking for his little brother. "That goddamn tendency to mean well, yet always end up antagonising people. And then, after a little while, you just can't bring yourself to care anymore, and you make some bad choices… and end up regretting it with all your heart." He, too, drank a sip of his wine now, before staring up at the ceiling. "I had hoped he would never have to be lonely, yet here we are, and look where we stand. Where he stands." He took a swig of his wine then, chugging it down in one go. He coughed, nearly choking on it, then put his empty glass down on the table. "At least he has Austria and Veneziano. And his mutt. Although I suppose Aster is dead now. I don't know how old those things get, but over twenty must be quite a stretch."  
Hungary gave a brief nod. "Yeah, he's told me about that, too. He had another dog, not long before Aster died. Blackie, he called him. And Blackie was borrowed by a breeder to breed a litter with. He now has one dog from that litter, a female. Sage, I think it was?" She was quiet for a moment, looking at East as if to gauge his reaction to her bringing up her meeting with the young German again. He took it well this time, so she went on. "He was intending to maybe breed a litter with her himself, and keep one of those pups again. Says the dogs are good company, and it's nice to have generations of the same bloodline. Like humans, there will always be traits to remind him of the parent dog."  
East hummed. "I guess I can understand why he wants to keep dogs now. I've been thinking about getting a bird or two, myself. But then, I wouldn't want to have to cage them all the time, and this apartment isn't exactly suited to let them fly around in freely. I might still do it, though. If the loneliness gets too bad."  
At this, Hungary got up and then flopped down beside East, pressing against him. "Loneliness?" she echoed, a little indignant. "Hey, don't forget I'm here now!" Then she fell quiet, and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "Things will turn out okay, Gil," she whispered to him, sounding reassuring enough to cheer him up a little. "It may take time, but look at how well you've been doing: you _have_ that time. You and Ludwig will be reunited someday, I just know you will." Then she sat up straight and nudged him. When East looked at her, she was smiling wide and raised her half-full glass of wine. "But let's do what we got together to do now, Gil!" the Hungarian said encouragingly. "It's a celebration after all."  
East Germany managed a smile and filled his glass again, then tapped it against hers. " _Prost._ " He got up after that and walked over to the window, looking out over Berlin. Somewhere there, not too far away from him, was his little brother. Hopefully he had Austria or Italy with him, maybe both. Likely both. Perhaps even the Benelux? Switzerland, Liechtenstein? How many of them would be interested now that their little cousin was a century old?  
It didn't even matter. He knew for a certainty that Austria was there, celebrating with him. Italy would do anything to be there, too, and had very likely succeeded. And then there was Sage, of course, and perhaps a couple of little squeaking puppies by now, too.  
He then recalled a favour he had asked many years ago. Had Italy really done it? Had he managed? Had he even remembered? East certainly hoped so. He would have wanted to be there when West got the gift he had commissioned for his little brother, but just knowing that he got it would be enough, really. But Italy was trustworthy and generous enough. Surely it had all worked out.  
Pressing his hand against the glass, East let out one more deep sigh, wishing he could go over the Wall to the other side and be there, too. "Happy birthday, little brother."

* * *

"You do have wine, don't you?" was about the first thing Veneziano asked when he arrived. "I like beer, but it's not exactly suited for celebrations like these."  
West chuckled. "Sure there's wine. Now come in, it's not exactly warm outside."  
To his surprise, the Italian didn't move a muscle. "Actually," he instead said, "is Austria already here? If he is, can you send him my way?"  
West stared at him for a moment without responding, but then began turning around to do as he was asked. "Uh," he stammered in confusion. "…Sure? Just a moment, then." Still confused, he went into the living room, where Austria sat on the couch, petting Sage behind her ears with a smile. West drew his attention, then explained that Italy needed him, although he didn't know for what. The Austrian looked equally confused, but he got up and went to Veneziano without saying anything other than 'okay'.  
West just went into the kitchen while he waited for them, grabbing another wineglass and a bottle of the alcoholic drink itself. He preferred white wine, but he knew that Veneziano only liked red, so he'd bought a bottle of that specifically for the Italian. Well, and Austria drank both, so he would likely make use of it, too.  
Sage came his way, pressing her nose against his leg quietly to get his attention. Her tail was wagging as he turned to look at her, her amber eyes fixed on his face, a questioning look in her eyes. West smiled, gave her a pat on the head and grabbed her bowl off the floor to clean it out and give her fresh rice with a bit of chicken. Sage had always been picky about what she ate, but West had never really cared and just given her the standard food he'd given all his dogs so far. Now that she was pregnant, though, he gave her rice and chicken once a day, knowing it was healthy for dogs to eat as much as it was for humans. If she was to care for a whole litter of pups in about two weeks, she deserved a little extra now.  
The nation looked up in surprise when he heard noise in the hallway, and a grunt from Austria. "You're insane, Veneziano," the Austrian said with a huff. "Absolutely insane. How should this even fit here?"  
"When I started on it, he still lived in the old house!" the Italian defended himself. "It would have fit there without any problem. Still big, I admit, but not too much so. And when you see it, you'll understand why it couldn't be smaller."  
West couldn't do anything but stare, frozen to the spot, when the two other nations carried in a large canvas. The same one West had seen years ago when he had visited Veneziano. On his next visits, it hadn't been there anymore, and he had thought it had been sold or given away, finally. Now he realised Veneziano had simply hidden it.  
He must have choked out the same question Austria had, because Italy sighed. "I just said!" he scoffed. "I didn't anticipate you would live in a smaller place when I started and-! Oh, never mind." With some difficulty, he and Austria turned and placed it on the floor against the wall. "I know it's not ideal," the Italian then went on, "but I know for a fact that there's space in the basement. Or maybe in your bedroom, or your study? I had originally thought it would be in your old living room, but I guess that one isn't an option anymore now."  
West was speechless for a moment. Then he managed to choke out: "B-but… Veneziano…" He was stunned as he remembered one specific comment his friend had made years ago. "You said you'd been working on it for more than 20 years…!"  
Veneziano nodded. "In the end, it was 24 years," he replied. "During the war, there were a few years I couldn't work on it, and I finished it in '68."  
The young German hardly even knew what to say. "D-did you specifically wait until this year…?" he stammered eventually. "Why would you even spend so much time on…?"  
Veneziano smiled at this, and his words robbed West of the ability to breathe and to speak altogether. "Because your brother asked me to," Italy said with a hint of warmth. "Don't get it wrong: this is as much your brother's gift to you as it is mine. He asked me if I could do this all the way back in 1940, and he asked specifically to give it to you on your centennial. Said it was a good time to do it." He smiled wider after he'd said this, enthusiasm and excitement sparking in his eyes. "So can I show it to you without you having a heart attack?"  
"I can't make any such promises."  
"Oh, please." Italy then turned to Austria, a guilty look in his eyes. "You might need tissues, actually. Just a warning."  
Then, without waiting a moment longer, he uncovered the painting he'd spent decades on, and immediately West's heart skipped a beat.  
It was a group portrait of more people than he cared to count at that moment, and though he recognised none of them at first glance, they all looked eerily familiar to him. Then he saw a young woman with light brown hair and blue eyes, standing next to an albino man. The latter, of course, was East Germany, West saw that much the instant he looked at him. The woman he recognised as the one he'd seen in dreams a few times. The one who had introduced herself as Brandenburg.  
He'd received this confirmation years ago during a conversation with his elder brother, but seeing the exact same woman painted here made him realise again that those dreams hadn't been dreams at all, and he couldn't breathe for a few seconds.  
The next face that stood out to him was his own, but younger. And then he realised it wasn't him: this figure looked like he could be his twin, a teenager wearing a black cloak. _If Holy Rome had still been alive, the two of you could have been twins._ So this was the Holy Roman Empire?  
He looked at some of the other faces, and he couldn't tear his gaze from a tall man with long blond hair and a scar over an eye. Completely out of the blue, a name popped up in his head, and he just knew that he was right. _Hesse…_  
And from there on, there were more faces he recognised, and names he could somehow place to those faces, from memories he'd thought he'd lost long ago. The teenager with the cane. Württemberg. The other teenager, with dark hair, standing next to Austria's likeness in the painting. Bavaria. Another young woman, about the same age Brandenburg was, with a smile he sometimes still saw in flashes of memory. Brunswick.  
He didn't even know how long he'd been staring before he could look away, glancing at Austria. His cousin sat on the couch, eyes wide as he looked at the painting, hands clasped over his mouth. There were tears in his eyes and trailing down his face, but he wouldn't look away.  
Meanwhile Veneziano was watching both of them with a calm smile on his face, satisfied with just sitting back and watching them in silence. When West glanced at him, he could see a look of pride in his eyes, just the slightest bit, something which West Germany thought was completely justified. He had been asked to do this by East long ago, and he had done his job perfectly.  
West didn't even know how to thank him, but he definitely would. Just as soon as he could even utter a single word again in the first place, because right now, his tongue wouldn't even move. By the time he could speak again, he figured he would have found a way to show his gratitude properly, too.  
Because this had to be the one of the best things anyone had ever done for him.  
 _I can finally see my family…_

* * *

East felt his legs shaking a little as he walked behind Russia, and the albino nation was surprised by this. He had known he felt nervous, that much had been obvious for a month now, but he hadn't thought it had been this bad. He had been having trouble sleeping weeks in advance to this day, his heart would start racing at random moments, just whenever thoughts about this day popped into his head. He had been looking forward to this day for so long now.  
18 September 1973. The day he had been officially admitted into the United Nations. The day his little brother had been, too. The day he would see West again.  
An anxious shiver went down his spine as he thought about this, and he clenched his hands into fists from nervousness. Until he felt a soft hand brush against his, and he looked to his side to see Hungary smiling at him. She was prying one of his hands open and twined her fingers with his in a comforting gesture.  
"I felt the same way the first time I came here," she whispered to him. "To see everyone again after so long… It's overwhelming, isn't it?"  
East took a deep breath and nodded. "To put it mildly." He hadn't ever thought he would feel this much like a shy little kid among so many nations, but then, how else should he feel? His last meetings with many of these nations hadn't been good ones, or he knew that they wouldn't be pleased seeing him again after the war, or their relationship hadn't ever been good in the first place. There would be very few nations whom he would be happy to see again. But those select few were people he had missed so deeply, they were worth all the discomfort of the other nations' presence.  
West Germany. Austria. The Benelux. Perhaps Scotland would be here, too? East had heard the United Kingdom sent two nations every year, rotating between the brothers who would attend the meetings. Italy certainly would be there, both of them. Perhaps he could try talking to Spain. If things went well and he felt at ease enough, maybe he would even take his chances on starting a conversation with France. He had some slight hope that he could finally mend his relationship with the Frenchman, after centuries of hatred.  
Meanwhile, the rules for the Eastern Bloc countries were comforting in a way, also: they were not to stray too far away from Russia unless given permission. So in a way, he wouldn't have to decide who he would talk to all by himself. If Russia or their human representatives deemed it okay, he could give it a go. If they didn't want him to, then he wouldn't have to put in effort, either. That was easy enough to follow.  
And then East Germany took a deep breath, smiling and raising his chin confidently. Whatever was going to happen, this would most certainly be the best week he'd had in many years.  
And just hours from now, he would see his little brother again.  
 _Ludwig, I'm here!_

* * *

 **So, next chapter will pick up from the moment this one ended!**

 **The UN seems like a place where Germany and Prussia can talk to each other, right?**

 **I hope you liked the chapter, and thanks for reading!**


	46. Chapter 46

**Hi everyone! Sorry that I'm late again.  
Last week I've been to the introduction/orientation week in my new university. And the week before that, there was a wedding to attend/help prepare. And the coming week I'll have to prepare for university and move to a new city.  
Moving out of the house. Hooray.  
(I'm terrified and excited all at the same time here. You know, no emotional rollercoaster going on or something)**

 **So yeah. From now on, I'll stick with biweekly updates rather than weekly ones unless I can finish chapters in one week. But don't expect that often anymore (*sniff* I want time to wriiiiitteee)**

 **With that out of the way, thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, favourited and/or followed! You all make me so happy every time ^u^**

 **I hope you'll like this chapter!**

* * *

By the time East walked into the conference hall of the General Assembly, he could feel his heart pounding in his throat. He hadn't been able to find West before he had to prepare for the meeting and go with Russia and the others, but he knew that he would see his little brother in here. They had been apart for 20 years since their last and brief time together.  
East had to remind himself to keep breathing as he walked into the conference hall behind Russia. Immediately he glanced around, his gaze trailing over all the nations who were already gathered there. West had to be among them.  
And then he spotted him. In an instant, East was hit by a wave of warmth like he hadn't felt in years. His little brother was right there, two rows of desks and chairs down from where he stood, five chairs to the left of the stairs he walked on. Just seconds later, East stood on the same level as where West sat, and he called out to him.  
West immediately looked up, his pale blue eyes wide as he met East's gaze. For a few seconds, they didn't do anything but stare at each other, but then they both began to move. West shoved his chair back a little so that he could stand up, and East turned to walk in his direction at the same moment. A moment later, however, East felt a strong hand clenching around his right arm, and he got a correctional tug which stopped him. Meanwhile, Austria had placed his hand on West's shoulder and was gently pushing him back down into his chair. The Austrian's lips moved, but East couldn't hear what he said over Russia's voice. He guessed the words must be similar to the ones he was hearing right now, though.  
"There's no time for a reunion right now, East," Russia told him off gently. "I know that it's difficult, but you'll have to wait until after the meeting. But hey, look at it this way," he added with a glance at the shorter nation. "At least you'll have plenty of time once the meeting is over."  
The thought of talking to West Germany again was enough to send East's mind reeling, and he smiled as he gave a short nod in response. The he looked sideways at West again, who already had his gaze fixed on his elder brother. And as he was dragged along by Russia, East kept looking at his younger brother, still trying to process this in the first place. He could see West here. He could talk to him here. Just hours from now, he could run to his little brother and hold him in his arms again. He had waited more than 20 years for this moment. He could wait those few hours longer. At least he could look at West from where he sat.  
And as he sat down, East thought that maybe it was a good thing that he didn't have the time to talk to West straight away. At least that meant he now had the time to figure out what he would even say to him when they could talk again.

The first to speak that day was America. Beside East, Russia was scowling as the young nation held his speech. Politically speaking, things were easing up between the two superpowers, but on a personal scale, Russia wanted to shoot America by now. His arrogance was one thing Russia could not stand, and East had to agree. Of course, East could be pretty arrogant himself, too, but America was different. It was the fact that the American hardly acknowledged that he got help from others to achieve his goals that got to him most. East had always been proud of becoming independent from Poland, centuries ago, but he never failed to mention Brandenburg's scheming that got him there if he talked about it.  
America's independence had only been won with help from the French, the Prussians and others when it suited America. And now he was talking about the treaties that had recently been signed between the USA and Soviet Union as if the initiative had all been his.  
"Way to keep the peace, America," East muttered under his breath.  
To his surprise, Russia snorted in held back laughter beside him. East glanced at him, slightly taken aback when he saw an amused smile on the younger nation's face. When Russia noticed that he was being looked at, he returned the gaze, still smiling. "Agreed," was all he said, in a careful whisper so as to not let anyone else hear.  
And then East couldn't help but also smirk a little. He and Russia agreed more and more often, and that was something that East Germany could really appreciate. It was a shame, though, that most of their points of agreement were about negative things such as the tensions between the United States of America and the Soviet Union.  
East kept watching and listening to the rest of the meeting as hours passed. That day, Japan also spoke, and after him came Ethiopia, Colombia, Denmark and lastly Scotland, who represented the United Kingdom as a whole. East Germany counted himself lucky for this: he had caught a glimpse of Wales before the meeting, and he had hoped the second person the United Kingdom had sent this year would be Scotland. Of course talking to West Germany had full priority, but he also would not end the week without having spoken to the Scot, even if just for a few minutes.

When finally the meeting of that day came to an end, East was no closer to figuring out what to say to his little brother. Glancing over to where West sat, he saw the first nations get up to leave. West only gathered his notes and sat still afterwards, but he looked at East with shining blue eyes. He was patiently waiting for a good moment to go to his brother, East could tell immediately. East himself was waiting for the same thing.  
Russia gave him a nudge, and East was almost startled as he turned to look at the younger nation. He didn't even have to wait for the Russian to say anything before he gave his response, which came in the form of a pleading look and a slightly begging tone. "You'll let me stay behind to talk to Ludwig, won't you?" _You more or less promised, after all, when you said I would have time after the meeting.  
_ To his relief, Russia nodded. "I was just going to say that you should remember to come back to the hotel in time. You should still have a few good hours left to catch up, though."  
East Germany nodded and promised that he would keep track of the time. Then, when most nations were out of the way between him and West, the albino nation carefully made his way over to his little brother. He found himself being more tentative about than he had thought he would be. Even now, after spending hours sitting just metres away from West, he could still hardly believe that this was real.  
But as he approached West and West approached him, he realised more with every step he took that it _was_. His little brother was right there, smiling at him, his pale blue eyes shining with joy and a disbelief similar to how East felt.  
They halted when they were less than a metre away from each other, staring each other in the eyes. Some nations still passed them, some looked at them for a moment, but no one stood around staring or bothered them in any other way. And to East, those other nations did not even exist at that moment.  
West was the first who said something, his voice hoarse and with a shiver of emotion. "…Hey."  
East couldn't help but smile, and he had to bite back some laughter. Apparently, West wasn't any more eloquent than he was at the moment. That was a good thing: at least East wouldn't feel stupid for not knowing what to say.  
The older nation just bit his lip for a second. "Hey," he replied. Taking a deep breath, he finally managed to find more words. "How have you been?" he asked. "I hope times haven't been too rough on you?"  
West looked surprised at the last question. "Not at all," he answered with a smile. "I've been doing very well, even when the economy hit a rocky patch a little while back. But how have _you_ been? Do you still have to live in Moscow?"  
East ignored his brother's questions for a moment as he fought not to show his disdain. _So the economy crashed at one point, did it now?_ he thought, and he would have huffed had he not restrained himself. _Figures._ Instead of saying any of that, he smiled only wider. "I'm doing great," he told West happily. "The economy has only been getting better with the year, and I can really feel it. I've been feeling so well that I started with regular workouts again some time ago. Nothing too straining as of yet, but I'm really building up stamina again."  
West snorted and smiled. "Yeah, because you _really_ had a lack of stamina!" he said sarcastically, laughing a little. He shook his head in amusement. "Gilbert, honestly, don't worry about any of that too much. You do realise that, even at your lowest point, you were still way fitter than the average person, right? You could run a marathon if you wanted to without any training, I'm pretty sure of it." His smile turned less amused and more warm immediately after he'd said this. "I'm glad, though, that you're doing that. I know how much you love it."  
East nodded with a grin. "Sure do! I've also been thinking about taking up fencing, but then, that would be absolutely no challenge for me, after hundreds of years of fighting with all sorts of swords. It's not my preferred weapon, but I have enough experience with rapiers, so… No." He gave West a nudge then. "And what have you been spending your time on, eh? I heard you're still living the life of a dog owner?"  
"I am," West said happily. "I've got Sage now. Still Shepherds. Sage has had a litter of pups two years back, and I was thinking of keeping one of the pups myself, but ended up not doing so. She might have another litter, though, and if she does, then I definitely will keep one this time." He shrugged a bit. "They're really good company, and having to take care of dogs also keeps me busy, so I'm happy with them."  
Hearing these last few words warmed East's heart. "I'm glad to hear that." He looked away for a moment. All of this still felt surreal to him. Was he really having a conversation with West Germany after all this time? "I, uh," he stammered a little, "I've got two birds now. Thankfully, I'm allowed to take them with me every time I have to go to Moscow again. I still live there for about six months a year," he added when he saw something flash in West's eyes. "The rest of the time, I spend in Berlin."  
West's expression darkened with slight sadness at these words, and the young nation sighed. "So you're that close so often," he mumbled softly. "And yet, we can't see each other at all… That's so…"  
"Wrong," East finished for him. He felt a spark of grief, also, but he refused to let that darken the mood between them. "But we can see each other now! And every years after this. And maybe we'll be together again someday. Let's not give up hope, Ludwig." He smiled reassuringly. "I know it didn't seem like it for a while, but I'm doing so well now, I'm certain that I've got plenty of time left. Enough to see the day that we will be reunited completely. _Because we will._ I just know we will be. I've told you before, they cannot keep us apart forever."  
West smiled at this, which instantly cured the little tear that had opened up on East's heart at seeing his little brother saddened like that. Then he spread his arms invitingly. "Now come here, Ludwig," he said warmly. "I haven't had a hug from you in _ages_."  
West Germany didn't need to be told twice. He leant down a little and put his arms around his elder brother. East was surprised by his firm grip at first, but seconds later it felt familiar again. The only real hugs he'd received for years now were from Hungary, and she wasn't nearly this strong. And a few seconds later, East found that he had missed this. An embrace from West was quite something. If you weren't careful, he could crush your spine, but at the same time he was really gentle. Firm and strong but warm and loving.  
"I missed you," East said in a whisper, feeling completely at ease in his younger brother's arms. "I missed you so much… Oh, Ludwig, I love you."  
"I missed you, too," West answered softly. "And I love you also. So much." He tilted his head and pressed his face into East's hair. His voice was muffled by it when he spoke again. "I've been so worried about you for so long… I'm glad that worry wasn't justified."  
East smiled and closed his eyes. "It was at first," he said with a quiet sigh. "But not anymore, I can promise you that. I thought I wouldn't live longer than a month or so after the dissolution, but it worked out completely differently. It worked out exactly right." He paused for a moment, then added quickly: "Well, that is, health-wise it worked out well for me. I do want you with me, though."  
The albino nation was fairly certain West Germany would cope as well with this way of life as East did. That the younger nation would eventually come to enjoy it like he did. The company of so many nations was good to have, against all East's expectations. West would likely feel the same way, especially after having been alone for so long.  
West held East a little tighter for a few seconds. "I really am glad," he said again. Then he added with a shiver of laughter: "But how about we move this conversation elsewhere now? It might be a good idea to get out of here before they lock the doors."

* * *

West chuckled softly as his elder brother fought not to laugh whilst telling a story of how things were in Moscow.  
"Romania and Hungary, of course, still don't get along one bit," the Prussian said with his voice trembling with laughter. "So that time that they were sent out for groceries together, well… You can guess how that went!" He paused to snicker for a moment, then went on between the laughter: "The problem is that we were fresh out of basically _everything_ , so we went without dinner that night. Needless to say, no one was pleased with them for it. We had all these beautiful revenge plans, but I don't think any have been put into practice. If they have been, I missed it, and that would be a shame, but you know, the idea was there."  
West thought it must be a case of it only really being funny if you'd been there, but he too couldn't hold back his laughter when he saw East laughing at the memories. It warmed his heart to see his elder brother so happy. All this time he had thought he had been miserable, and all this time he had been wrong about it. It also hurt somewhat, though. Knowing that his brother was happy _without him_ was bittersweet. But then, he told himself, he had been doing well and had had many happy moments over the years without his brother there. East must be feeling the same thing for the same reason.  
But what did that even matter? They were here now, they were together again, and they were enjoying themselves talking, laughing and sharing a beer. It was all West had wished for all these years.  
Looking at East, he could easily see so many things that had changed about the albino nation. They were mostly changes for the better, though. For one, he had noticed during the meeting that East had been wearing his glasses for the duration of it. Even now he was still wearing them. Last he had seen him, he had still been too vain to wear them if he didn't have to read. His vision was good enough still that he could get around without bumping into things and that he could recognise people if he saw them. Did this mean that his sight had declined further? Or did he just accept his situation more? The latter would be great, of course.  
Another thing was that East gave off a different vibe than before. West wasn't sure how to describe it. He wasn't even sure how to feel about it. All he knew was that East felt different somehow.  
The best thing of all, though, was that he looked healthier than he had been since before the war. His albinism prevented him from having too much colour on his face, but his complexion did have a healthier look about it, more vitality. His red-and-blue eyes were shining with joy and energy and liveliness. His white hair was messy as ever, but gave off the idea of controlled chaos rather than the plain chaos it had been in the years after the war. East hadn't been very attentive of his own appearance in that time, focusing on his mental health rather that superficial things like those. It was easy to tell that the last time his hair had seen a comb had been that morning before the meeting, instead of at least a week ago.  
But then there was his clothing: East wore a suit and tie like almost all nations did for the meetings, but he still looked more dishevelled than most. Either his clothing wasn't as high-quality as it was probably meant to look, or it was older than it should be. West figured it was the latter, and that only raised more questions for him. If East's economy was so good that he was only getting healthier, against all odds, then he should have enough money for himself to buy new clothes, right? And if he paid attention to his appearance again like his obviously combed hair suggested, then he _would_ buy new clothes, if only for meetings like these, wouldn't he? So why would he be wearing old, basically tattered clothes like these? It didn't quite add up with the rest West had observed about his brother.  
But in all honesty, it didn't really matter. West himself had changed over the years as well. That was only natural, of course. He shouldn't have expected any differently than this. No matter what, East was still East. He was still _Prussia_ , his big brother, and being with him was still the best thing in the world.  
East Germany took a swig of his beer and brushed the back of his hand over his lips. With a smirk and a grunt of laughter, he shook his head amusedly. "Hungary and Poland have also been up to mischief together a couple of times," he told West. "Thankfully, I wasn't always the victim of it. Lizzie took care of that for me. If it were up to Poland, I would naturally be the victim of all his practical jokes and then some."  
West snorted a bit, trying to picture it. Somehow he could only imagine this as Poland going into East's stuff and snatching something, only to hide it for hours on end. Maybe that was what he did, too. He was glad to hear that Poland didn't show his deep dislike for East Germany in a more serious manner. He could have just as easily made the Prussian's life a living hell. If it was all restricted to teasing, then East Germany might even enjoy it to some extent. Going by how East was talking about all of it, that was actually the case, too.  
West just went on listening, completely content. He knew from what East had told him that they only had about an hour left now before the older nation had to go back to Russia. Rather than saddening him, the thought only made West look forward to tomorrow, when he could sit down like this with his brother again. And until then, he would relish every second he'd had with East today, knowing the albino would do the same once he had to leave.

* * *

On the second day of the meetings, East arrived earlier than the others (with permission, of course) in order to look for his little brother before the meeting would start. He just hoped West had thought of doing the same thing, since they hadn't actually discussed this the day before. It had been a spontaneous action on East's part. He figured his chances of running into his brother now were pretty low, but it was worth the shot.  
There were a few nations already there. None that East could immediately recognise, though. He figured they were South Americans and Africans, for he didn't know most of those nations personally. He had never been to those areas, after all. Too sunny.  
Others who were already there that he did recognise were Japan, Spain and Canada. He had half a mind to go talk to either of them, but he decided not to. Instead he went to sit down somewhere, with a clear view of the entrance, so that he would see if West Germany came in.  
His plans didn't quite work out that way, though. Spain spotted him and came his way. The older nation said a quick greeting and sat down beside him. "It's good to see you again after so long, Gil," the Spaniard said with a careful smile. "It's been ages since we last talked to each other."  
East shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know why, but right now he just didn't want to be stuck talking to his old friend. "It certainly has been," he answered stiffly, not even looking at Spain as he spoke. "How are you?"  
"Oh, I'm doing quite fine, thanks," Spain replied in a calm tone, but something about his voice told East that he didn't have any intention of talking about himself. This became all the more clear when his voice sounded more insistent when he asked: "And how about you?"  
With a quick sideward glance at Spain, East shrugged. "Could be better, but it could easily have been a lot worse, too." Turning his gaze to the floor, he sighed softly and said nothing else.  
After a short silence, Spain gave him a careful nudge to draw his attention. When East looked up at him, he saw the older nation stare at him with a doubtful look in his eyes. For a few seconds, he still didn't say anything, and it looked to East Germany like the kingdom had to push himself to get any words over his lips. "You don't look all right," he said softly. Spain's dark green eyes were shimmering with unreadable emotions as he spoke. "To be frank with you, Gilbert, you don't look like yourself. This isn't anything like the Prussia I knew all these years."  
East stiffened at these words, some strange heat flaring up in his chest. "Well, maybe that is because I'm not Prussia anymore," he said, snappier than he had intended. "I'm East Germany now, not Prussia. Of course I would be different. Deal with it."  
"You're wrong," Spain protested, narrowing his eyes a little, though without any anger. "You are still the same person. Do you think that, just because your name changed, you suddenly have an excuse to change your entire personality? Come on. You know better than that." He tried to smile again, but East's blank stare took that away from him quickly. Instead, Spain just went on with a soft sigh. "And what's the deal with those glasses? I know you've had 'em for decades, but I've never really seen you wear them for more than a few minutes at a time. You've obviously lost weight as well. And with that I mean you've lost a lot of muscle."  
East Germany huffed angrily, refusing to look at Spain. "Are you just here to criticise me?" he demanded with an edge to his voice.  
Spain shook his head, his gaze hardening now, also. "No," he stated flatly. "I'm here to dig up Prussia from underneath the ruin that is East Germany."  
Those words filled East with a rage he hadn't expected. He promptly got up. "Too late," he replied from in between clenched jaws. "He suffocated and died down there a long time ago." He started walking away with steady, quick steps, but he halted when he heard Spain's voice once again.  
The Spaniard sounded almost smug when he said: "Did he now?"  
Gritting his teeth, East Germany glanced at him over his shoulder. Spain was smirking at him with a knowing look in his green eyes. His grin got wider when he saw the albino look back at him. "Well, hello, Prussia," he said simply. "I think I just caught a glimpse of you, after all."  
East stared at him for a moment, feeling choked up for some reason. Then he turned away and left the building, going outside. He could wait for West there, too.

* * *

West Germany came to the meeting with Austria the second day, too. The moment he entered the international grounds, he started looking out for his brother again. This time he spotted him within seconds, sitting on his own on a low wall. He ignored all the nations who passed him. As West and Austria approached him, the young nation noticed that his elder brother looked rather grumpy. Had something happened?  
But East Germany must have noticed the two nations coming his way, because he looked up and immediately smiled again. The albino jumped to his feet and wordlessly walked toward them both, tightly wrapping one arm around each of them. His eyes were shining as he let go of them seconds later, and only then he spoke to them. "I still can't believe we're back together, even if for a week a year," he said with a sigh of bliss. Then he turned to Austria. "Sissy… Goddamn, I missed you."  
Austria smiled wide at this. "It's still strange to hear you say that, even after everything we've been through," he replied jokingly. Then he embraced his cousin again, only briefly. "I missed you, too, though. It's good to see you're doing so well."  
East didn't stop smiling, but something flashed in his eyes, reminding West of the bad mood East had been in just moments ago. The albino scoffed. "That I'm doing so well, eh?" he muttered grumpily, his smile fading gradually. "You two seem to be the only outsiders who think so."  
 _Outsiders?_ West wondered for a moment why East used that word, but before he could even think of asking, East went on. "Others just think that I'm not myself anymore," he said, the muscles along his jaw tightening in anger. "That I'm weak. That, just because I'm not Prussia anymore, I'm not good enough anymore, either!" He clenched his hands into fists, which were shaking a little in his rage. "They basically called me a wreck this morning."  
West and Austria exchanged a quick glance at this. The younger nation could tell from his cousin's gaze that he must have realised the same thing West had: this little get-together with East Germany would likely not be a happy one anymore now. Austria then looked at East, carefully asking: "Who said that?"  
East huffed and rolled his eyes. "Spain, of course. Who else would be so blunt?" With a hollow laugh, he added: "Oh, wait, I know! _Everyone else,_ of course." The albino nation then glared at a group of Asian nations passing them, and West said a quick, silent thanks that they all ignored them and didn't see the hatred with which East looked at them. "They haven't actually said anything," East muttered to no one in particular, "but I know that they all think the same thing. Everyone who knew me as Prussia, anyway. They all look at me as if they can't believe it's really me. I know that I'm not Prussia anymore and I know I'm different from how I used to be," he then added, pure venom in his voice and loathing in his red eyes. "But does that make me worth any less than when I was Prussia? Of course not! East Germany is just as good as Prussia used to be. _We_ all know that for a fact. So why do _they_ all fail to see that? It's my youth all over again!"  
Austria shook his head in confusion and shushed his cousin gently. "Of course we know better," he said soothingly, but West could hear some slight anxiety in his voice, as if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing now and triggering even more anger. East had always had a dangerous temper in this sort of mood, after all. "And I'm sure they don't all think like that."  
But Austria was cut off abruptly when East sent him a confused, somewhat indignant look. "You?" he asked, furrowing his brows in surprise and confusion. "Oh, no, I didn't mean _you two_. I meant _us._ We, as in we in the Eastern Bloc." He sniffed disdainfully. "The rest of the world is just _blind_. If they weren't, they would know that I'm not so weak. None of us are. Communism isn't a curse like they make it out to be, dammit."  
West could hardly believe what he was hearing. What was East saying? It was true that many people in the western world condemned communism, but wasn't that for good reason? Everything that had happened after the war, everything bad that had happened, had involved communists. The Cuba Crisis, the Korean War, the Vietnam War. How was the whole ideology _not_ the scourge that threatened the entire world these days?  
The young German shook his head with a sigh, realising now what had happened to his brother. "Russia has completely brainwashed you, Gilbert," he said, realising only seconds after he'd spoken that he had said these words out loud.  
Actually, the only reason he realised this fact was because East Germany's eyes widened immediately after, and the albino gave his brother a shocked, indignant stare. Then, after a few seconds, he narrowed his eyes and anger flashed in his red irises as he took a step back. "Oh, I see," he muttered darkly. "You're like that, too."  
West blinked, taken aback by this reaction. "N-no, Gilbert, that's not what I mean," he tried to defend himself, although why he would need to do so, he didn't understand.  
But East Germany shook his head and laughed hollowly. The look he gave West was one of hurt, betrayal, anger and disbelief. "I could have known," he said softly, sadness ringing in every syllable. "Is it because I could never manage to come to Berlin that you think I'm weak? That I couldn't stand up to _evil_ Russia to go to you? But then what does that make you? You could never even cross the goddamn border to begin with!"  
Austria butted in now, glaring at East. "Would you calm down, Gilbert?" he said sharply. "I get that you had a bad morning, but there's no need for you to shout at Ludwig."  
East retaliated with a glare tenfold Austria's. "No, you don't get it, neither of you do!" He grinned suddenly, chuckling as if the whole situation was too amusing. "Have you ever taken a long, hard look at the world, Ludwig? At your allies and your friends?" The albino nation looked almost smug when he said this. The arrogance in his expression and his voice might have reminded West of the old days, were it not that he had never seen it quite like this. Not this cold, not this hateful. "You do realise that they're the liars, don't you? The treacherous filth that made our lives so difficult. I told you before, America has always been an ungrateful bastard. He dragged us down with him when we were already in a bad place. He was the one to be the decisive factor in both wars, which also gave us trouble. The United Kingdom are people who would leave their allies to die if it suits them, and I unfortunately have first-hand experience with that. France… Don't get me started on that guy. And if you then look at Russia, he's quite the saint. Yes, he has his sick-minded moments, he has his more-than-questionable methods from time to time, but you know what? _He's no liar._ I may not have liked everything he did or said, but he was always truthful. He still is, dammit." East was still smiling weirdly as he spoke. "And you know what else he did? He stepped out of the Great War early, making the end easier on us. He ended the Second World War for us, invaded Berlin which let to that piece of shit Hitler killing himself, _finally._ And then he gave me a home and a purpose after everything had been taken away from me. He gave me a chance to stay alive."  
West Germany felt sick listening to this. "Don't you see what he's done to you? To everyone else, too? He's a danger to the entire world, Gilbert."  
"No, Russia is a goddamn _hero_!" East retorted, tensing up. "He saved me from certain death by taking me in as East Germany! Don't you see that? I have plenty to be grateful to him for. And if you give a damn about me, your big brother, then you should damn well be on your knees, thanking him! Without Russia, you wouldn't have had an elder brother anymore by now."  
"Do you even hear yourself talk?" West snapped, getting ever more tense the more he listened to his brother's rambling. "Russia is also the man who branded you, tried to kill you once, oppresses you and your people and held you captive for years."  
East didn't say anything for a moment, then sighed. "Don't trust America, Ludwig," he said, more quietly now, all anger gone from his voice. "He's dangerous, and you're a fool if you don't see that." Having said that, he turned around and walked away without even looking back.  
West could only stare, wondering what had just happened. Desperately trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. Why was his brother suddenly angry at him? What had he said that had ticked him off like this? Was it about Russia? But East had always hated Russia. He had always hated him and even been afraid of him.  
In his confusion and misery over what had just happened, he turned to look at Austria beside him. The older nation stood staring at East Germany's back with narrowed eyes and his fists clenched into angry fists. "Oh, you did not just do that, Gilbert," he muttered, half to himself it seemed. "You did _not_ just do that."  
West felt a pang of anxiety at the rage in his cousin's voice. "Austria…"  
He couldn't even say more than that. Austria looked up at him, anger still in his gaze. "Oh, I've got some words for that man, Ludwig," he said calmly, but with an enraged edge to his voice. "If he thinks he can just act out his anger and insecurities on others like this, after all these years, he's got another thing coming." He sighed then, relaxing again. "But let's first just go to the meeting. We'll talk to him later. Or I will, anyway."  
As he followed Austria to the conference hall, he only felt even more saddened. Why did everyone have to fight?

* * *

After the meeting that day, East Germany stayed behind together with Hungary. The two friends sat in the hallway there, talking to each other. After having been tormented by the echoes of his own words during the entire meeting, East had told Hungary about his encounter with Spain that morning. Of course, he had also told her about how he had treated his own precious brother after it. Telling the story, he felt ashamed of what he had said. He knew he had been right in saying the world would never understand, as they never had, but West wasn't one of them. West Germany had always understood, had always believed in his brother. He was precious and there was no way East could be angry with him. So why had he said all those things?  
Brandenburg was there too, having joined the conversation quite quickly. East played medium between her and Hungary, telling his friend everything Brandenburg said, except for a few personal and private comments.  
"I agree with Brand, Gil," Hungary said eventually, looking down at her glass. She'd bought them both a beer. "I'm sure he understands that he just caught you at a bad time, but you should still apologise to him. You've got nothing to lose there."  
East sighed and nodded. "I know," he replied softly. "But what do I tell him if I don't even know why I lashed out like that? Sure, what Spain said hurt quite a bit, but…"  
Brandenburg leant down, forcing him to look her in the eyes. Her blue irises were filled with warmth and a gentle worry as she looked at him. "But do you realise that Spain said almost the same thing you've been saying all this time?" she told him softly. "He said that, just because you changed your name, that doesn't make you a different person. And here you are, trying to show everyone that just because you're East Germany now, that doesn't make you any different from Prussia. You've been contradicting yourself a lot, sweetheart."  
Somehow her words left East feeling choked up. "But I… I don't know which is true anymore," he replied shakily, not bothering to tell Hungary what had been said this time. "All these years I thought I was still the same person. I thought I could still be me. But now, being here, seeing how everyone reacts to me being here… I _am_ different. S-so… what should I do?" He paused for a moment, taking time to take a deep breath. "Should I just accept that I'm not what I used to be? Not _who_ I used to be?" he asked, his heart pounding painfully. "O-or should I cling to the hope that I'm still me in some way?"  
Beside him, Hungary sighed deeply. "Oh, Gil," she said softly. "Of course you're still you. But people do change. You are still yourself, you're still Prussia, but that doesn't necessarily mean you're the same as a century ago, or even a decade ago."  
East nodded, his gaze focused on the floor now. "I just don't know if I like the changes in me…" He shrugged for the lack of something better to do now. "If I've fallen so low that I would even yell at my own little brother over a little disagreement…"  
"Well," came a new voice, startling East. The albino looked up at Austria wide-eyed as the older nation approached him, West Germany trailing a little way behind him. Austria's gaze was cold as he looked at his cousin. "At least we agree that it was pretty low of you to do that, indeed."  
East shrunk back a little where he sat, shame washing over him again when he looked at Austria and especially West Germany. Beside him, Brandenburg shoved a little closer to him, as close as she could get he figured. She was nearly touching him. He could feel her by his side as if she sat pressed against him. "Go on," she encouraged him quietly. "Tell them."  
East Germany glanced at her for just a moment before looking back at his brother and cousin. "I-I'm sorry…" he choked out guiltily. "I shouldn't have been like that this morning… I shouldn't bother you like that if I'm not in the best mood." He got to his feet, walking over to them. He first looked at Austria and then West, his gaze lingering on his little brother. "…Can you forgive me…?"  
West only blinked at him, staring him in the eyes silently. Then, without saying anything, he pulled East into a hug. "I know we more or less promised each other we would not let them separate us forever," he said in a whisper. "But let's make another promise to keep, all right?"  
Grateful beyond words, East Germany wrapped his arms around his little brother, knowing now that he had already been forgiven. He really did have the best brother in the world. If only he could be a better brother himself…  
"Let's promise each other," West said softly to him, "that no matter what, we will not let anyone tear us apart. That we won't let the world influence us. That we let each other make our own choices and that we won't let any of that affect us. If you want to follow Russia, that's fine. If I want to follow America, that's also fine. But that doesn't mean we have to be at war with each other simply because they cannot see eye-to-eye."  
East could only feel proud when he heard these words. Really the best brother in the world. The wisest young man he had ever come across. The strongest person he knew.  
He held West a little tighter, feeling choked up with sheer happiness and pride.  
"I promise."

* * *

 **They can't stay angry with each other. They seriously cannot.  
 _But_ different ideologies can take their toll on relationships. Trust me, it doesn't make being happy together any easier.  
**

 **And, well, that would be all I've got to say here. I'm sorry about having to slow down on the updates, but I guess that was already clear by now.**

 **Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!**


	47. Chapter 47

**I'm back people! Holy Roman Empire, I feel like I've been gone for way too long.  
So yeah. I moved to a new city. I've been in university for 1,5 weeks now. I'm _tired_. And I've been dealing with writer's block for weeks now, if not months.  
But! I will not quit! I will finish this story, people, I promise!  
Just bear with me, though, because it might take a while at this point.**

 **Anyways, thanks for everyone who read, reviewed et cetera. You truly are awesome for sticking with me and this story for so long.**

 **I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! (Also, about the start, don't worry is all I want to say beforehand)**

* * *

West Germany glanced around curiously, hoping to spot East. He hadn't been able to talk to his brother before the meeting that day, and the two days before they also hadn't spoken. He had tried to go to East, but the older nation had always followed the Eastern Bloc group to and from the meetings that week without even looking at anyone else. By now the nations were beginning to look like they had formed their own little clique and kept away any 'outsiders', as East Germany himself had called the rest of the world only the year before.  
This time West refused to let his brother pass him by without talking again. And if it was Russia who kept East in line, which West suspected was the case, then he would let the man know just what he thought about that. He'd kept the two nations apart for long enough, and to even keep them apart from one another the one week in a year that they could be together was too much.  
Soon enough he saw the Eastern Bloc group emerge from the conference hall, staying close together as always. Estonia and Latvia were talking to one another, Poland and Lithuania walked side by side. Romania was snickering beside Bulgaria, who had likely told him a joke or something of the likes. Belarus stayed close to Russia. West spotted his brother at the back of the group, right next to Ukraine and Hungary. The two women were talking softly, but East didn't seem to be paying attention.  
Feeling the usual surge of warmth at seeing his brother again, West called out to the albino nation. East looked up, glancing around a bit until he spotted West. He stopped walking, said something to the others and went West's way immediately after. The younger nation's heart fluttered as he watched his dear elder brother approach, but only seconds later, it sank. Deep.  
East glared at the young German, his gaze cold and shimmering with disdain and hatred. He halted in front of West, and West's heart skipped a beat in shock when his elder brother pulled a pistol from under his coat, placing it to West's forehead. The albino's red eyes betrayed nothing as he stared up at his little brother. Nothing but fury.  
"You goddamn traitor," he snarled. "Lying piece of shit."  
West stared at him wide-eyed, taking a step back. He could feel the wall behind him when he did so, and knew that he was cornered. "What do you mean?" he stammered, confused and scared. What was going on here? Why would East Germany suddenly pull a gun on his own little brother? What possessed him to do such a thing and to call West a traitor all of a sudden?  
East's coldness didn't waver even a split second. "What I mean?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in apparent surprise that West didn't know what he was talking about. "Why, only your entire existence, of course!" He thrust his hand forward, pressing the barrel of the gun against West's forehead even harder. "I told you last year," the albino nation grumbled. "I've taken a long, hard look at the world lately. And I came to yet another conclusion: _you're_ no good, either."  
Shivering where he stood, West Germany fought to comprehend what his brother was saying. But he couldn't. There was no way he could understand any of this. "B-but…"  
"No 'but', Ludwig," East cut him off abruptly. "Face it: you're the source of all troubles in the world. The world wars, a catalyst of the tensions in this era… If you hadn't been there, things wouldn't have turned out the way they did in the Great War. If you hadn't been there, the Second World War would never have happened. If you weren't here now, things would be different now, too." Sadness and regret now flashed in East's eyes, but only for a moment. "I made a mistake when I created you," the older nation went on, more quietly now. "I made a mistake. And now… Now I need to correct my mistake."  
West watched breathlessly as East moved his finger to the trigger, all the while staring West straight in the eyes.  
"If you die now, Ludwig," East said monotonously, "chances are, _I_ will gain control over all of Germany. And under my lead and the Soviet Union's guidance, Germany will be greater than ever. As it was meant to be." For just a moment, East Germany glanced back at the Eastern Bloc, who were all quietly inspecting the scene in front of them. Some of them gave an approving nod when East looked at them over his shoulder.  
With the other communists' approval, East turned back to West. There was nothing at all in his eyes as he gripped his pistol more firmly. "Goodbye, _West_."

* * *

West Germany jerked awake with a yelp of fear. Beside him on his bed, Sage lifted her head, startled. The dog met her owner's wide, frightened gaze with her own calm brown eyes, and gradually West felt his fear ebb away. That dream again. It wasn't the first time he had dreamt of something like this.  
It always started out differently, but one way or the other, these dreams would always end the same way: East holding a gun to West's head, about to kill him without any hesitation.  
The young nation had been plagued by dreams like these for months now, ever since his confrontation with his brother at the UN the previous year. The rest of that week had passed peacefully. East and West hadn't argued for even a second after that one instance, and East had only ever looked at him with love, pride and sometimes sadness. Never in anger, never in hatred. But these dreams told West that he subconsciously believed it had all been an act. That East could be turned against him after all. The older nation was already such a loyal follower of Russia's ideals.  
What would he do if Russia would push him to hurt West? Whose side would he choose then?  
Sage tipped her head a little, as if she was asking something.  
West only sighed and petted her on the head. "It's nothing, girl," he whispered to her. "I'm just being silly again, worrying about nothing." Or at least, so he hoped. But then, what were the odds that he was wrong about this? His brother loved him unconditionally. He had known that for over a century and he had never doubted it. How stupid to suddenly think otherwise.  
The annual meetings of the UN General Assembly were in just a few months. Once there, East Germany would no doubt be pleased to see West again, and they would talk and laugh like they had last year. Just a few months before West's fears would be proven wrong, and then he wouldn't have nightmares like these anymore. Until then, he would just have to be patient and keep telling himself that he was being foolish. And hopefully… Hopefully that would work.

Circumstances weren't always beneficial to West's peace of mind, however. Such as when his Chancellor, Brandt, had to step down in May 1974. Turned out a member of his staff was a spy for East Germany. To know that his brother had spies in West's government didn't exactly serve to make him feel any better. Although of course, he just told himself that East had nothing at all to do with this. Which was likely true, too.  
Italy Veneziano came by for a visit at the start of June, just after all that had happened. The older nation agreed with West, saying he shouldn't worry himself so much. So East was a true communist, so what? For himself, it was probably the best thing, considering his government and people were, too. "It would be quite a hassle for him, don't you think," Veneziano commented once, "if he didn't agree with his own government at all? I think you two have both suffered through enough of that in the not-so-distant past."  
West nodded, his mind put more at ease after hearing this. "True. But still, that the East Germans have spies in my government…"  
"What, and you mean to say it's not like that the other way around?" Italy countered, raising one eyebrow quizzically. "Please. I fully understand your worry, Ludwig, but you can take it too far." He nudged the younger nation then, smiling. "Cheer up, relax, and then it will all settle itself somehow."  
Finally West managed to smile a little, and he nodded again. With as much conviction as he could muster, he looked at his friend. "Thanks, Veneziano. I guess I'll just ask Gilbert about it at the meetings in a few weeks."  
"Do so," Veneziano agreed, glad to see the younger nation felt more at ease again now. "And then you'll see there's no reason for you to worry."  
Outwardly, West certainly was more confident about this now. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. He was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to get that off his mind anytime soon, either. Not before he'd got a confirmation from East Germany himself that he'd been worrying over nothing.

* * *

"Hey, Russia," East began with a soft sigh as he walked up to the younger nation. "Could I get a day off soon?" He took off his glasses, looking at the glass-and-metal object in annoyance. "I think I should visit the optician's sometime soon. Small letters are becoming hard to read again."  
Russia looked up from the work he was doing in surprise. "Again?" he asked calmly. "Are you sure?"  
East gave him a stare for that comment. "You know better than anyone that I would be the first to deny that my eyes are getting worse," he grumbled. "If I come up to you and say it's so, then you can count on it that it is so."  
Russia looked at him in silence a moment longer, then sighed and nodded. "That's true," he said quietly. "Of course you can go. Just make an appointment and I'll make sure you won't have anything to do that day. How's your medicine stock? If you want, that same day might be a good time to refill your stock if you need to," he suggested.  
East nodded. It wasn't a bad suggestion. "It certainly couldn't hurt to get some more," he replied, putting his glasses back on. "Thanks, Ivan."  
That said, he left the Russian's office and headed to the women's room, where Ukraine would be getting a treatment for her back from Romania; East wanted to learn from him if he could, see if he was able to massage and loosen stiff muscles like Romania could. It would be a nice addition to his list of medical skills. Ukraine and Romania had both already said it would be okay for him to sit there and observe, maybe try to help out a bit.  
Ukraine often had a sore back and stiff shoulders due to her being… quite well endowed, to put it nicely. Romania had started giving her these massages for it years ago, and he did so regularly. It was only recently, though, that East had gotten the idea to try and learn to do it also.

Once there, the Prussian got a slightly unpleasant surprise: Belarus was also there. The girl sat on her own bed, propped up against the wall, quietly reading a book. When East came in, however, she looked up briefly, narrowing her eyes with a huff.  
"I do hope you're really here to learn from Romania," she said in a quiet snarl, "and that you won't be ogling my sister instead."  
East stared at her quietly for a moment, then rolled his eyes and sat down on a chair next to Romania and Ukraine. "You know," he said without looking at Belarus. "You never struck me as the type of girl who reads books for fun."  
"I probably also never struck you as the type of girl who keeps a knife in her boot at all times, but if you do anything I don't like, you'll see how wrong that is."  
"That actually does not surprise me at all."  
Belarus huffed at this, and East only smirked a little. So far, the girl had always been all bark and no bite. She loved to threaten everyone she didn't like too much, but she had never done anything to anyone.  
Romania then spoke up. "Well, I for one am glad the roles are switched for once," he said without looking up. "To be the one teaching Gilbert instead of having him teach me… Turning the tables for once is nice." For just a moment the Romanian looked up from what he was doing, smiling a little. "Now do pay attention, all right?"  
East nodded. "Of course."  
It was silent for a few minutes after that, until Ukraine spoke up. "You know, Gilbert," she said softly, "it surprises me that you're not freaking out over the UN meetings coming up like last year. Back then you were constantly pacing around three months before we even went there!"  
The very moment the woman said this, East's heart started racing, and he shifted where he sat, trying very hard not to get too fidgety. "Well," he replied a little stiffly. "To be honest, why do you think I'm here right now? If I don't find ways to distract myself, I'll be exactly like that again, I can tell you that much. It's just… exciting, you know?"  
Belarus snorted in her little corner. "What are you, a child? Those meetings are nothing to be so excited over."  
For this, East for once did look at her through narrowed eyes, not even attempting to hide his dissatisfaction over her comment. "Maybe for you they're not," he muttered in annoyance. "For me, though, it's another story entirely." How could anyone not understand that? Wasn't it obvious? "It's the only week in a year that I can see my little brother. And that after spending decades apart! We made a good start last week, but I don't even know how we'll ever catch up on all the time we've lost. Not to mention that things have changed in the years we've been apart, and last year that-" He stopped himself abruptly. He was here for distraction, not to get himself stressed out yet again.  
Ukraine and Romania gave him a curious stare while Belarus thankfully ignored him. At least no one made any comment about his abrupt silence.  
Meanwhile East Germany looked away uncomfortably and took a deep breath. Ever since his one argument with West, he'd been worried he had permanently damaged something after all. West had forgiven him so quickly… Maybe too quickly. There had been no strain in their interactions the rest of the week together, but still East couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something wrong that couldn't be set right again. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen his little brother in so long and acted like he did on the second day of being with him again.  
How things had gone with Austria the rest of the week also didn't help much. The older nation had clearly been angry with East for acting the way he did that morning, and all week afterward he had been colder to him than he had been before the split between East and West Germany. East wanted Austria's forgiveness almost as much as he wanted West's, to his own surprise, but he knew that it would be far harder to get. Maybe the year that had passed since then had solved things. Maybe it had only made things worse. Only time could tell, and waiting for answers was among the hardest things he'd had to do in a long, long time.  
Eventually East just sighed. "I didn't come here to discuss things like these, I came here to learn. So, teacher, do go on, and I'll observe."  
Romania stared at him a moment longer, then gave a silent nod and continued working on Ukraine's shoulders.

* * *

Finally the day came that the annual UN meetings would start, and West Germany's heart was pounding in his throat in the hour before the meeting that day would commence. He knew from having asked around that the Eastern Bloc hadn't arrived yet, and that, from where he stood, he would be able to spot the coming easily. He had once again barely slept in the nights before this day, and now he was just desperate to prove to himself that he had been wrong in thinking his brother would do anything other than be happy to see him.  
Once again, he had travelled together with Austria, but this time he had specifically asked for the older nation to leave him alone for a little while as he waited for East to arrive. Whatever would happen between the two brothers, be it good or bad, it would be between them and no one else.  
Of course, Austria's gentle presence and calm collectedness was probably exactly what he needed, and his absence left him feeling quite uncomfortable right now. But he wouldn't want anyone to interrupt whatever would happen between him and East in any way.  
It seemed to take ages before he saw Russia, leading the group of nations as usual. His heart sank when he saw East walking by his side, however. The two nations were talking amicably, it seemed, and East Germany chuckled for a moment at something Russia said. The taller but younger nation only smiled good-humouredly.  
The western world was doing its best to better its relationship with the Soviet Union and the communist states, to make sure the world wouldn't perish if a fight broke out between the USA and the USSR, but West knew that America still harboured a deep-rooted distrust for the communists. A distrust West couldn't help but share. Where it would have once filled him with joy to see his elder brother get along with other nations like this, especially ones that he had been stuck with and would still be stuck with for many years, it now only filled him with a dread he tried hard to suppress.  
But at the same time, a voice in the back of his mind bluntly called him an idiot. The two nations were just having a friendly talk. Perhaps Russia had just cracked a good joke, and that's why East was laughing. It's not like they were discussing their plans for world domination and having a blast doing so, of course not. West was just overreacting, he knew he was.  
The young nation's breath caught in his throat when East Germany spotted him. But the albino's face lit up the moment he lay eyes on his little brother. He nudged Russia quickly, said something to him, then ran off before the Russian could even respond. To West's relief, Russia seemed surprised but not angry in any way. No one else tried to stop East, either.  
But even though East was smiling as he approached West, the younger nation couldn't help but feel a spark of fear as he recalled his nightmares of the past year. Would East try to do something to him after all? Was he smiling because he had a chance to 'correct his mistake', as he had said so many times in the dreams that plagued West at night?  
But East tackled West, swinging his arms around him lovingly and holding him tight. "Ludwig! It's good to see you again, little bro!" Suddenly the albino nation stiffened, and he let go of West, looking tense and uncomfortable. A look of guilt lay in his eyes, as if he had just made a mistake and he felt bad about that now. "Uh," he stammered all of a sudden. "H-how are you, Ludwig?"  
West Germany stared at him for a moment, wondering where this sudden discomfort came from. "I've been well," he said, only half a lie. Other than constantly worrying about this encounter in the back of his mind, he had been doing well the entire year. Not as good as he had been, given, but well enough. West let out a soft sigh. "Is something wrong, Gilbert?" Why would his brother be so fidgety?  
East bit his lip a bit and looked away, then shrugged. "Isn't there?" he asked softly. "I know we made a promise last year, and I know we haven't spoken about it since and that you said it was okay, but…"  
Suddenly it dawned on West, and in that instant his own worry was washed away completely, as if it had never even been there. "You think I'm still angry about what you said _a year ago?_ " he guessed, dumbfounded by this realisation. "Of course not! Gilbert, I know that you weren't in the best mood then, to put it mildly. I know you didn't mean it-" He stopped himself abruptly, memories of his nightmares slamming back into him like a sledgehammer. He looked down and shook his head. "Well, no, that's not entirely true," he said softly, a bit apologetic. All year East Germany had been worried that he'd hurt or angered his little brother too much with his words, and now West would have to prove him right to some extent. "I _was_ worried that you meant all that. That you were angry with me for not agreeing. I know I was wrong!" he added quickly when East opened his mouth to reply. "I knew that all along. I just couldn't shake that feeling, that's all. But I meant what I said last year. I don't care if we've got different ideologies now, so long as we don't let that divide us."  
East stared up at him with brightly shining eyes and a wide smile on his lips. A few tiny tears shimmered in the corners of his eyes, but then he barked out a soft laugh and quickly wiped them away. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?" he said with careful laughter in his voice. "We've each been worrying our asses off all year, thinking the other hated us for what we've said a year ago. Dammit, Ludwig, sometimes you really are too much like me."  
Seeing the irony in all this now, also, West couldn't help but laugh along. "God forbid I'm anything like you, of course!" he joked. He knew East had often said he had hoped for West to not be like him, but West himself honestly didn't see the problem. East Germany was and would always be the best person he knew.  
East gave him a friendly shove for this. "Well, you can have my strength, my skill, my wits and general awesomeness, but I've got some characteristics you'd be better off without. This is one of them." He cracked a grin then, looking up at West with joy twinkling in his red irises. "I love you, you know? And I'm sorry for making you think I was in any way angry with you. If anyone, _I_ was the one in the wrong last year, and I realised that very well."  
The albino swung his arm around West's shoulder then. "Hey, come on," he said as he gently tugged on the younger nation to pull him along. "Let's go to that meeting, and how about we get a beer together afterward? And if we do, it's on me, okay? My economy's becoming the strongest in the Eastern Bloc by now, and I think that's worth a celebration! Don't you?"  
West nodded and smiled, and the two brother kept talking on their way to the conference hall, both relieved to have been proven wrong in the fears that had been in the back of their minds all year.  
They had made their promise and so far they'd kept it, too. Nothing would ever truly divide them, they knew that for sure.

* * *

East Germany felt completely at ease sitting beside Scotland a few days later, the second-to-last day before the meetings would end that year. He'd been surprised to see that Scotland had come to the UN two years in a row, but the old kingdom had explained to him that, since they hadn't had a good chance to talk the year before, he had asked specifically to go again this year. It was, after all, his first chance to speak to his good friend in decades.  
After almost 30 years, East was ashamed to find he had nearly forgotten how good it was to be with Scotland and talk to him, share a drink and crack some jokes. It would be a lie to say he had missed this almost as much as he had missed West, but he truly had missed it a lot. Being here with the old nation now, he felt for a moment like it was the good old days, before any wars had put a strain, however slight, on their relationship.  
East talked about life in the Eastern Bloc first, then Scotland told him a bit about how things were in his family now. After all, they had their own semi-war going on, the conflict between different parties and ideals about what the fate of young Northern Ireland should be. All this had put quite a strain on North's relationship with Ireland, but in his confusion and frustration over the seemingly unsolvable conflict, the boy was getting more brisk with his other brothers, too.  
"And to top it all off," Scotland said with a tired sigh, "Coineach has recently hit puberty, also. You can imagine the fun times we have with the kid lately. Oh, I love him dearly, of course," he added quickly, looking at East as he spoke. "It's just that… Well, the poor kid is confused, and I can't blame him for anything. But it doesn't make things any easier." He gave his pint of beer a short spin, the golden liquid spiralling in the glass. "Cearul also isn't doing too well, which I can understand fully. At the start of the century, with the whole Easter Rising and independence thing going on, he felt so guilty for having done all that he did and _wanting_ certain things to happen, even if it hurt us… He was in a bad place for quite a while. Then the whole issue with Dylan's back-" He stopped himself abruptly, eyes wide and nearly choking on a mouthful of beer. Startled he looked at East, a pleading look in his pale eyes. "You…" he whispered then, a little hoarse. "You didn't hear that from me, okay? Or better yet, you didn't hear that at all."  
East blinked in surprise, then smiled reassuringly. "Oh, don't worry, Allistair. I figured out almost immediately that Ireland had something to do with that, and I haven't said a thing to anyone. Why would I? You know I'm not like that."  
For a few seconds, Scotland still didn't react, but then he sighed in relief. "Well, it was all an accident, anyway," he went on softly. "Cearul was gutted about it, understandably. And now he's more or less getting the blame for what the IRA does… And to add Coineach's behaviour on top of all that, you know. He's not going through an easy time, either."  
East nodded quietly, letting it all sink in. He didn't have an easy life, never had, but right now things were going so well for him. The only thing he could still wish for was to be reunited with his little brother, and then he would more or less have the ideal life, the way he saw it. He knew very well that he deserved some easier times and happiness for once, after all the pain and difficulties he'd been through all his life, but that didn't stop him from feeling bad for his dear friend now that he heard all this. The British Isles had had a terrible century also, starting with the First World War and Ireland's subsequent War of Independence. The Interbellum had been a difficult time for everyone, and they'd had to raise a child in the middle of it along with dealing with Wales' paralysis. The Second World War came and went, and now there were the Troubles, the bombings and attacks by the IRA and similar groups. They all deserved a break as much as he did.  
"But on another note," Scotland then said, a little louder and certainly more cheerful. There was a twinkle in his pale blue eyes now. "Have you heard about our newest family member yet? I'm an uncle since a few years now!"  
This time it was East who nearly choked on his drink, and he swallowed the liquid quickly and with difficulty, coughing a little after. Scotland an uncle? A new member of the British Isles family? He had heard no such thing. "You're kidding!" he choked out, still a little hoarse from nearly having his drink go down the wrong end of his throat. "When did that happen? A-and who-?"  
"A few years ago, in 1967," Scotland explained with a smile. "Some idiot went to an abandoned platform from the war, declared it a country and is still under the illusion he's the prince of some micro nation. And all that brought us little Sealand, England's son. Unfortunately for both of them, Artie isn't exactly father material, and Peter -Sealand- isn't the easiest kid. I happily take him under my wing every now and then, though. I quite like raising kids, you know. It's a challenge, but it's worth all the trouble and more when you get to watch them grow up." Only a slight bit of joy faded from his eyes when he added: "The only thing I sometimes wish for, is that Peter were mine, not Artie's. My wee brother never really had parents or parental figures, he doesn't know what to do with the kid. And to be honest with you, I always did think being a parent would be nice. But only few nations ever get that chance." With a sideward glance at East, he asked: "Have you ever thought about that?"  
East Germany was silent for a moment after this sudden question, but then nodded slowly. "I've thought about it," he admitted. "Never seriously, though. Brandenburg did say she would have liked a chance to be a mother, but alas. We did raise Württemberg together for a little while, though. As for Ludwig, I suppose you could say I've been fatherly to him sometimes, but I'm far happier just being his brother." With a snort, he added: "Especially now that he's basically caught up to me in age!" He tried to imagine it, but couldn't. "It would be weird if I had opted to pose as his dad, really. I just called him my little brother from day one and it stuck, and that's that."  
Scotland sighed. "I wish everyone was that easy about it." But then he looked away, and East could immediately tell that the Scot wouldn't be willing to go deeper in on that particular comment.  
East Germany shrugged. "Well, that's about the only thing that went really well for a while for me, you know," the albino answered. "I still don't know how Ludwig turned out so well with me to raise him. How that boy hasn't been royally fucked up by my so-called 'parenting' or just having me as his brother in general…" He barked out a soft laugh, remembering his first encounter with West that week, the conversation they'd had. "Although, to be fair, he is sometimes more like me than is good for him. So I guess I did fuck him up." He took a swig of his beer and smirked. "But then, it's the whole world's fault that I'm like this, what with shunning me and demonising me and ripping everything I ever loved away from me-!" His voice had grown a little louder with each word he spoke on that last sentence, and he cut himself off and cleared his throat to correct himself. "Anyway, you could say the world has indirectly fucked him up for what little part of him isn't quite right."  
Scotland chuckled at this. "Well, to be honest with you," he replied calmly, "I think your little brother turned out just fine, whether he's like you in some ways or not. After all, being like you isn't such a bad thing as you make it out to be, surely. And considering the circumstances he's spent the past century growing up and developing in, I think he did a wonderful job becoming the person he is now. You, of course, did great _making_ him the person he is now. Also keeping in mind what you've been through and what that did to you, as you mentioned." He flashed the albino a smile then. "Don't talk yourself down like that, Gilbert. It's unlike you."  
East smiled a little, also, although those last two words hit him as hard as they had when Spain had told him a similar thing a year ago. _Unlike you_. He really wasn't quite himself anymore, was he? But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all. Maybe this was one good change. After all, the person he was talking down now wasn't who he was now. And when it came to this topic, how he had raised West Germany or anything related to that, he had always spoken badly of himself during that time. That he had been a bad brother, unfit to raise a young nation in the unstable mind-set he had been in. When he looked back at that time, especially the first decades of this century and the last few of the 19th century, he only saw himself as a danger to the people around him, a cold, despair-ridden soul bordering on insanity. Thinking of it that way, it was probably even a good thing that he wasn't like that anymore.  
Slowly, East's forced smile turned genuine, his mind put at ease about all this for the first time in years. He wasn't who he used to be, and that might just be the best thing that could have happened to him.

* * *

A few days had passed since the UN meetings that year had ended, and West had been working late to make up proper reports of the meetings. Sage had also needed to go out for a walk before he could go to bed, so by the time he lay down, he was quite tired. He fell asleep more quickly than he could have even imagined.  
Almost the instant his consciousness slipped to make way for sleep, he found himself in a familiar place, and a familiar situation. He was pleasantly surprised, though, when he saw Brandenburg standing in front of him. The young woman was looking up at him with a warm smile.  
"Hello, Ludwig," she greeted him softly. "It has been a while."  
West nodded. "It certainly has been," he replied calmly. "What brings you here? I thought you only ever showed up for important things?" What could she possibly have to say to him? Everything was going splendidly, he hardly needed any guidance right now. Well, there were a few things that weren't quite so perfect, or maybe more than a few, but it was all nothing he couldn't handle.  
Brandenburg shrugged, still smiling. "Well, it would be a little redundant now for me to say that you've got nothing to worry about regarding Prussia's opinion of you, but that was originally what I would have talked to you about."  
West chuckled at this. "Yes, I do know better now. But might I ask one thing?" He shifted uncomfortably. One word had come as a stab to the heart when Brandenburg had spoken it. "Why… Why do you still call him Prussia?"  
Brandenburg didn't answer immediately, only looked down and sighed. Then she shook her head and shrugged again. "He has always been Prussia," she answered. "He always will be. To me, anyway. And when his time comes and he joins us all here, he will be known as Prussia once more, unless he wishes otherwise. Which, mind you, I don't see him doing very quickly."  
No, West couldn't see that happening either. His brother was too proud of his past to ever let it go. Still, it hurt him more than he had thought it would, even after all this time, to hear the name Prussia.  
He pushed that thought away and looked at Brandenburg. "If it's not to tell me that," he queried, "why are you here then?"  
After another few seconds of silence, Brandenburg looked back up at him. "It's both good news and bad news," she said softly, blue eyes shimmering with an unreadable emotion. "If the way Prussia feels about things is anything to go by, and how his people seem to feel, I don't think you will be separated from one another for much longer." She blinked slowly, averting her gaze once more. "However, when the time comes you're reunited, it's likely that Prussia also won't live much longer."  
Those words, even if they weren't too surprising, took West's breath away. He more or less knew this already, but he had never put much thought into it. He had never wanted to. All he wanted was to be reunited with his brother. However, when he would be, he would lose him soon after it, too. It was so cruel. "Isn't there any way he can live even after we're together?"  
"It never hurts to try and find a way," Brandenburg replied with a shiver of regret in her voice. "But don't count on it, Ludwig. Even if he doesn't die straight away, the likelihood that his health will deteriorate more quickly than ever is significant. He might not even _want_ to go on then." Something of regret and guilt flashed in her eyes when she looked at West Germany then, and she added quickly: "Oh, I'm not saying any of that is bound to happen!" The young woman tried to smile a little. "All I'm saying is that it might, that you should be prepared for it."  
"You said he wants to be reunited again," West said hoarsely. "And I also know that he does. But… why?" This was one thing he didn't understand. One thing he couldn't wrap his head around. "Does he know that it will kill him if we're allowed to be together again?" Brandenburg nodded, and West gritted his teeth, his shoulders tensing. "Then _why?_ If he knows he'll die… Why would he want to be reunited with me if it costs him his life?"  
Brandenburg's clear blue eyes were shimmering with both sadness and some sort of joy as she looked at West now. "Staying a separate nation is only prolonging his life, Ludwig," she told him clearly. "And not indefinitely so. He hasn't got very much longer anyway, by nation standards. You know this." A careful smile played on her lips then. "Even if it shortens what time he has left, if you're not separated like this anymore, you'll still likely have more time left together than you do now, with a week a year."  
West could understand that thought, but his mind immediately came with an argument against that. "That all depends…" After all, if East had, say, a century left, then that would make for another hundred weeks, which was equal to almost two years. If they were reunited, he might not even have that long. On the other hand, he might not have a century left anymore either way, and maybe he would have surprisingly long to live after West and East Germany weren't fully separate anymore, and in that case Brandenburg would be right and they would have longer left together than otherwise.  
"In any case, Ludwig," Brandenburg said to him, gentle and determined. "To Prussia, no matter what, you are worth dying for."

* * *

 **I have to ask once again for your help now, my fellow history buffs. Because I just _can't_. So yeah. Any important events between 1975 and 1989 that I absolutely _have to_ write about before the Wall comes down? I seriously cannot find anything, partly because I don't have the time or energy right now to scan through pages of history. If I have something specific to look for, that would make it a lot easier.**

 **So... please? If you know anything, I would love to hear it.**

 **I hope the next chapter will not take me so long to write, but I'm losing hope of overcoming this block anytime soon by now. It has lasted all summer at least with maybe a few days that went smoothly. And now university. _Homework_. Tons of it, it's not even funny anymore.  
(And it's only week #2 *crying a river*)**

 **Aaaanyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter even if it might have come out pretty messily... and uh...  
Thanks a ton for reading, honestly. I love you guys for it.**


	48. Chapter 48

**I'm back again! Sorry for taking so long yet again, but at least I can say I think I'm beginning to get the right balance between studies, work and relaxing now.  
Is it bad that it took me only three weeks of university to hit that wall for the first time? I broke right through it, though, and am doing better again.  
University certainly is a lot more work than high school, though! And the first tests are already looming on the horizon...**

 **Well, so much for me complaining about univerity life ^~^' (I do really enjoy it, though, and I already love the people I have to work and study with, they're great)**

 **I think it was pinkdoughnuts who reminded me of something quite major that I could incorporate into this story, too. Not so much history-related, but I do believe I found the right way to use it in this context and make it fit. Correct me if I'm wrong, of course!**

 **Thanks again to everyone for sticking with me so long and being so patient. I hope this chapter lives up to expectations!**

* * *

"Gilbert. Gilbert, wake up. Gilbert, _come on_ , we're going to be late if you don't get up soon."  
East Germany grunted and turned around, pulling his duvet over his face. He really wanted to sleep just a bit longer. He'd been restless all night and it had taken him until long past midnight before he finally fell asleep and even after that he frequently woke up during the night.  
Hungary's voice was unwavering and relentless, though. "Gilbert, don't make me drag you out of bed now."  
It was only the first day of the UN meetings, and already did East know he had made a mistake in opting to share a room with Hungary. That, of course, had happened only because of a mistake in booking the hotel, something which East had gladly made use of. He had hoped for a chance to spent time alone with his friend again.  
East Germany just grunted again when the Hungarian shook him. "No," he muttered into his pillow. "No, I'm skipping for today. I'd fall asleep at the desk in a matter of minutes."  
"Then so be it," Hungary answered bluntly, giving him another shake. "You know Russia wouldn't take kindly to your being absent. Even less than him, your leaders wouldn't like you any more for it."  
She had a valid point there. With a deep sigh, East Germany finally sat up. He yawned the moment he so much as tried to open his eyes, though. He sent Hungary a mild glare when she laughed at this.  
But he felt a lot better just seconds later when a warm smell hit his nose. Hungary smirked a bit when she saw the change in his expression, then turned around to grab something. When she turned back to him, she held a steaming cup of coffee. "I figured you would need this when you wouldn't wake up from the alarm clock earlier," she explained as she sat down on the edge of the bed beside him and handed the cup to him. "You barely ever have trouble waking up, after all. Did you sleep so little?"  
East nodded, not responding as he gratefully took a sip of the coffee, burning his lips in the process. "Ow! Damn. Well, that sure wakes a person." Before drinking any more, he spent some time blowing on it first. "But I barely slept last night, indeed," the tired nation then confirmed. "And God, do I feel that." He drank a large gulp of the coffee just as soon as it had cooled down sufficiently. Then he winced immediately and grimaced. "Ugh, American coffee."  
Offended for only a heartbeat, Hungary raised an eyebrow curiously. "Is it really bad?" She sniffed the cup for a moment as East handed it to her to try it herself. "I mean, I know it smells different, but…"  
"It's not bad," East replied as Hungary still seemed to hesitate to drink. "It's just… different from what I'm used to." He watched as Hungary also pulled a face when she tasted a sip, then shrugged and took the cup back. It may not taste like he was used to, but it was strong enough to jolt him awake, and that was enough for him.  
He snickered a bit after gulping down the coffee. "Those Americans may _claim_ to be from Berlin," he quipped, setting the cup aside, "but their drinks certainly don't taste like it!" And they couldn't write speeches like Germans could, either. Not only that, but they only ever showed their support for the _West_ Germans openly, especially West Berlin. They claimed it was an 'island of democracy trapped inside an ocean of communism' and all that. Well, what about the East Germans? Sure, communism wasn't as bad as the westerners made it out to be, but they were still trapped. It might not be their half of the city that was completely encircled by a wall, but though it was undoubtedly difficult, the people in West Berlin _did_ have a way out, which was more than East Germans got. Trying to defect to West Germany was almost equal to suicide.  
Well, at least people paid attention to the existence of the Wall. Made it that much more certain something would be done about it sooner or later. Someday. That was the only certainty East had: the Wall wouldn't be there forever, and he would likely live to see the day it would come down. No matter how long it would take, he would be there the day he could be with his little brother outside of UN meetings again.  
"At least the coffee is better than what you had to deal with until recently," Hungary commented, cutting into his thoughts. She was in front of the mirror now, brushing her hair and tidying herself a bit as she spoke. "Also, how could you skip the meeting if it meant not being able to see Ludwig?"  
Again, East saw the sense in her words. "Aren't you just Mrs Logic and Reason today?" he saw with another quick yawn. "Stop being so awake, Lizzie. I can't keep up yet."  
"Well, you will have to," Hungary replied matter-of-factly, still focusing on her reflection in the mirror as she finished readying herself for the meetings with a clip in her hair. "We need to leave in fifteen minutes. Twenty, at most."  
East froze when he heard this. "B-but," he stammered, jumping up in a hurry. "I still need to get dressed, have breakfast, comb my hair, brush my teeth… All of it!"  
"I know. That's what I was saying, silly."  
"You couldn't wake me sooner?"  
A sigh. "Gil, God knows I've tried, but you weren't exactly cooperative."

* * *

Even though he had been in this position before, it still left West Germany feeling somewhat nervous when he had to speak before all the nations gathered at the UN. At least he had studied up on this topic intensively before writing his speech: the increase in oil prices over the course of a few years now was becoming a problem for certain nations, causing troubles for their economies. It wasn't a very difficult subject to talk about, to him at least. He had always had a good understanding of the economy, partly thanks to East's lessons when he was little.  
"It will certainly not have gone unnoticed to many of you," he spoke clearly, glancing around at the rows of nations sitting behind their desks, "that the real price of oil has practically doubled compared to three years ago. This has forced down the demand of oil in many countries, including the USA, Japan and European nations." He went on about this some more, talking about the effects of that decreased demand and the predictions made for the near future. It was to be expected oil prices would drop significantly soon if demand wouldn't increase, which in turn would raise demand again. Oil-producing nations benefitted from the high prices, naturally, while the consuming nations' economies suffered to some extent. If the situation was to progress according to the predictions, this balance would shift in the near future.  
He then went on to ask other nations for their input on the matter: some of the OPEC members first, then some nations who consumed oil rather than produced it. America claimed to be working on finding alternatives to oil, which seemed to be working out well; the percentage of America's oil that had to be imported was now far lower than a few years ago, and was only expected to become even lower. Some Middle-Eastern countries didn't look too pleased when America explained this.  
West then moved on to European nations. Netherlands especially was displeased over the high price of oil. But then, Netherlands was displeased with anything that was too expensive to his liking.  
The third European nation he had planned to ask about the state of his economy was Ireland. However, when he looked at Ireland, the old nation rivalled Prussia in paleness, his gaze focussed on a point in front of him, somewhere beyond West. Surprised by this, West tentatively tried to draw his attention. The Irishman didn't even look up. It took West a minute or so to finally catch his attention.  
Ireland nearly jumped, startled, when West asked him if anything was wrong. "Oh, uh," he stammered nervously. "N-no, everything's… Everything's fine…"  
West narrowed his eyes. How obvious could a lie be? He sighed and shook his head. "Are you sure about that, Ireland?" The young nation wasn't entirely sure how to go about this, but that he couldn't just ignore someone looking this bad and being so out of it in the middle of a meeting was a given.  
Ireland lowered his gaze. "W-well…" he replied, so softly West had to strain to hear him. "Maybe not…?"  
What was the matter with the man? West knew that, especially given the topic of today's meeting, some nations were bound to be sick, but surely anyone who had it this bad wouldn't bother showing up at these meetings? West at least was pretty sure his leaders wouldn't even allow him to go if he was this ill, or whatever it was that was going on with Ireland.  
"Perhaps you should leave for a moment," West Germany suggested to the Irishman then. "Take a break." Glancing around at the other nations, he added: "Provided everyone else approves?"  
There was mostly silence, but also a few approving mumbles among the nations. Ireland nodded gratefully and got to his feet. He looked shaky and a little unbalanced as he stood. "Thank you," he brought out weakly. "I'll be back soon, I promise."  
West shook his head at this. "Take your time." _If you're in such a bad state, you won't add anything to the meeting, anyway. Best rest up now and try again tomorrow._ He watched in silence as the old nation left the conference hall, and saw England get up from his seat almost the moment Ireland closed the door behind himself.  
England apologized quickly. "I think I need to go after him, I'm afraid," he explained hurriedly. "He… Well, he is my brother, after all." He turned and left without waiting for a response, but no one tried to stop him.  
Almost all nations stared after England as he followed his brother, and as did West, curious as to what was going on. But seconds later, he realised all eyes were turned on him again, and for just a moment, he felt flustered. "Uh, well…" That it wasn't a difficult topic, didn't mean he could deal with interruptions like these any better than normally. "I-I believe this brings me to the conclusion of my speech. Thank you, all, for listening, and for your valuable input. I hope we can find a solution soon." He then nodded to Japan, who was scheduled to speak next.  
As he walked up the stairs to his own desk, he slowed just the slightest bit as he passed East Germany, looking at his brother. East looked tired as he sat there, but he noticed West's gaze and answered it with shining eyes and a warm smile. West could almost _hear_ the words he could read in the albino's expression, and they warmed his heart. He didn't think he would ever reach an age where he wouldn't feel this sense of accomplishment from seeing his brother look at him proudly.  
Feeling more comfortable again now, West took his place again, listening intently to what Japan had to say.

* * *

"You look dead on your feet, Gil," West sighed as he sat beside his elder brother after the meeting that day. "Have you been getting any rest at all lately?"  
East Germany nodded. "I have, really. Just not last night." He chuckled dryly for a moment, before he broke off in a yawn. "Something tells me I'll sleep _very well_ tonight, though. I don't think I can even stay awake until dinner, at this point. But say," he added, ending that topic now. "Have you really been having so much trouble with the oil thing?" West didn't look particularly bad. He wasn't any paler than usual, he didn't look tired or flushed in any way. It was clear he was as healthy as could be at the moment, making it hard for East to imagine his economy was really suffering. Of course, that he _looked_ healthy didn't mean anything; he could just as easily simply be having a good day now.  
West shrugged. "Well, it certainly hasn't made things easier on my economy," he replied calmly. "But I myself am not doing too bad, thankfully. I'm just glad I'm not in as bad a state as Ireland."  
East was surprised for a moment at this last comment, until he told himself that, of course, West had no way of knowing what had been going on. "Oh, he wasn't sick or anything," the albino nation explained then. "England was right when he said it wasn't the economy." The kingdom had come back into the conference hall minutes after having gone after Ireland, and when other nations had bombarded him with questions, he had simply answered that whatever was going on, his brother hadn't been doing well, but it likely wasn't related to the economy. East had had to fight back a snort then. If he'd had a little less restraint, he would have just said something like 'you don't say!'.  
"That guy's not sick, trust me," East said a little dismissively. "He was just scared out of his skin from seeing a ghost. Multiple times."  
"Wait… What?" West blinked in confusion. East could tell from his expression that he would have to explain more before his little brother would let him off now. "A ghost? And you saw that, too?"  
East raised an eyebrow at this. "Uh… yes? As I've been doing for the past decades?" He shifted where he sat before saying more. "It was a woman, long blonde hair… Looked a whole lot like England, to be honest with you. Brandenburg told me she's Britannia, their mother. She also told me Ireland's that terrified because he only ever catches glimpses of her, never hears her when she speaks… To be honest, I would be scared if I saw Brand like that, or anyone else."  
West nodded slowly as he took in that information. "But… You only see the dead because of your stroke. So how can Ireland…?"  
"Don't know," East replied with a shrug. "And to be honest, I don't really care. That's for him to deal with, it's not my problem. Not yours, either." He gave the younger nation a nudge and smiled at him. "Have I told you yet that I'm sharing a room with Hungary now, by the way? At the hotel, I mean." He snickered when West gave him a weird look. "Something went wrong in the booking, so I opted for sharing a room with her to solve the problem. For once I don't have to share a bed with, say, Estonia or Romania, or whatever." For some reason, hotels could never understand that, when booking a room for three or four people, that didn't always mean two of those people wanted to sleep in a double bed together. "Lizzie and I haven't exactly been in a relationship anymore for years now, but at least it's not awkward for us to share a bed. That is, I don't think it is. She doesn't seem to, either."  
West hummed. "I do see why you would prefer Hungary over Estonia or Romania. Or -God forbid- Poland."  
This made East Germany laugh. "Oh, God, no!" he burst out. "So far, arrangements have always been so that Poland and Lithuania would not be in the same room I am. We have to do that at home, and that's bad enough. But at least there, we've got so many other people around that we keep the fighting at a minimum. If we had to be in a room with just the three of us, or with one other person…"  
"There would be casualties," West said with a grin. "Well, good that they at least take care not to have any… 'accidents', so to say." The young nation chuckled a bit, and East laughed along softly. But then West Germany let out a soft sigh, glancing down at his wristwatch. "I should leave soon," he said to his elder brother. "Unfortunately. I'll have quite some work to do, writing a report on what we've discussed today." That was the downside to being one of the nations to speak at these meetings: both the preparation and the report afterward took a lot of time.  
East knew this, of course, even though he was rarely tasked with holding a speech like that. Still, he was disappointed to hear he couldn't spend more time with his little brother today. "We'll talk again tomorrow, won't we?" he asked, despite knowing he didn't really have to.  
West smiled at him. "Of course we will. Well, enjoy your time alone with Hungary. And be sure to go to bed early tonight, all right? I don't want to see you with bags like those anymore tomorrow," he said, pointing to the dark lines under East's eyes.  
East Germany huffed in silent laughter. "Try to stop me!" Then he got up, and as did West. The older nation held his brother in a tight hug for a moment before he let him go. "So long as you won't be overdoing it with those reports. Surely you won't have to finish them by tonight? No overworking tonight, little bro."

* * *

The rest of the week proceeded smoothly. There were no incidents of any kind, thankfully, and by the second day, at least East Germany had been better rested. Ireland, too, had been back for the remainder of the week.  
West and Austria had suggested to East and Hungary to go out with the four of them if they had the chance, and on the last evening before everyone would have to leave again, the four nations spent the evening at a restaurant together. They stayed there far longer than they had anticipated, talking for hours. It had been as close to the old days as they had been for many years, an evening Austria and West Germany still talked about now, months later, during Austria's visit to Berlin.  
"They seem to be doing well," Austria said as he and his younger cousin were out for a walk with West's dog. This was Sage's daughter, Nessa, a two-year-old dog. She seemed to have taken a liking to Austria, and kept butting her head against his hip as they walked. He gently pushed her away yet again before he went on talking. "I still don't know how much of that is true, and how much is an illusion. They are clearly healthy and appear quite happy, too. But have you taken a look at their outfits the past years? I haven't seen them in anything looking remotely new in the past _decade_. In fact, I think Gilbert has been wearing the same three suits to the UN meetings since you two had your first there."  
West nodded. He had noticed the same thing. "But just that they don't seem to have any new clothes for the meetings, doesn't necessarily mean they're in a bad state." After all, West still had clothing from two decades ago or longer, although he made sure to be presentable at the UN or the EU.  
"I'm just saying," Austria replied, "any self-respecting nation would try to look their best at meetings like those, right? So why don't they?"  
West didn't know how to answer, so he just shrugged. He did think it was weird, but he didn't want to look too much into it and jump to the wrong conclusions. East Germany and Hungary seemed to be doing fine, and he wanted to believe they were. They had been for years.  
"On another note," Austria then said, having to gently push Nessa away again. "Have you heard about Ireland yet?"  
Confused, West looked at his cousin with a questioning gaze. "No…? Why?" Did something important happen, and West was once again unaware of it? Well, he _had_ been focusing on the state of his own economy and people lately, after all. He had also been talking to the Netherlands, whose people would have to vote soon whether they would accept rockets being placed in their country as a defensive mechanism against a potential communist attack. There were plenty of things that had taken up his attention the past months, and only once had Ireland been one of those things, when West had been thinking about what East had told him about the old nation and what had happened during the UN meeting early that year.  
He was curious, though. Austria wasn't one to gossip when it wasn't about his own family or close friends. Not unless it was something big.  
Which it turned out to be, indeed. Austria sighed softly. "It seems the man's in a coma. That's what Italy Veneziano told me, anyway, and he's heard it from France. I think France got it from Canada? If not, France heard it from the UK themselves, I'm sure; they do seem to be quite close, in their own… unique way."  
A coma…? _Is that why he's been seeing his mother?_ It was a possibility. But then, East hadn't started seeing ghosts until _after_ something life-threatening had happened to him. West had no idea how those things worked, of course, but to him, it still didn't make much sense either way. "So… So do you know how bad it is?"  
Austria shrugged with another deep sigh. "Who knows? The UK isn't being very open about it, so I don't know. But we're talking about a coma here, Ludwig; it's bad, no matter what caused it. And I haven't heard of anything that might have caused something like this… It's a weird situation."  
West nodded silently, thoughts rushing through his head. So a nation could be on the brink of death… "If he doesn't make it," he mused half to himself, "he'll be the first nation in Europe to die since… Since our family."  
"Indeed," Austria replied calmly, although his voice betrayed some sadness and even anxiety. "He keeps to himself a lot, always has, but his death would leave quite the impact on Europe, maybe even more than any other nation. He's the oldest nation in Europe, did you know that? Greece is a close second, but Ireland's the oldest for all I know."  
For a little while, West was silent after this, pondering. Austria didn't say anything anymore, either, as they walked. Eventually West spoke up again, a little tentatively. "Do you think we should say anything to the UK? Let them know we… Well… you know?"  
Austria shook his head slowly. "I don't think we should. They haven't said anything themselves, so I don't think they wanted anyone to know. Also, how many people know about Gilbert by now? His stroke, or that he's… not going to be around forever. I think they feel the same way about this as we all did about Gilbert. Remember how they didn't tell anyone about Wales's paralysis until almost 20 years after his accident. I think it's best if we just keep quiet now, and if something does happen, we'll be supportive then."  
Thinking about a nation possibly dying, West's mind automatically went to his own elder brother. In a way, the situation within the UK wasn't all that different from the situation West and East Germany had been in for the past decades. East could die soon, and only their closest family and friends knew about it. They didn't want anyone else to know about it, either. But if they never told anyone, and East would come to pass, other nations might consider it 'sudden', even though it had been a process that had lasted the majority of this century by now. West did think that, by the time his brother wasn't around any longer, he would explain to other nations what had been going on all this time. He thought he would have to, really.  
He must have been quiet for a while, because he eventually caught the look Austria was giving him. It was a look of slight pity, worry and sympathy. "You're thinking about Gilbert, aren't you?" the older nation guessed softly.  
West nodded, silent for another few seconds before he found his voice back. "I was just… comparing the situations," he mumbled in response, absent-mindedly giving Nessa a gentle pat on the side as the dog came up next to him.  
Austria averted his gaze for a moment, quietly pondering. Then he gave a single, brief nod. "I suppose there are some similarities," he said, agreeing somewhat. "But then, whatever happened to Ireland must have been quite sudden. I mean, he didn't start acting weird until the meetings at the UN earlier this year. I guess anyone who's even a little observant can tell what's going on with Gilbert by now. Frankly, for someone who doesn't know him well, his albinism might just be the only thing giving away that he is the same person as the man who conquered left and right just two centuries ago."  
Was it really that bad? West couldn't help but list the things that were different about his brother in his mind after hearing Austria say this. Well, for starters, he wore glasses most of the time now, a clear indication that his eyesight had gone bad which in turn meant his general health was what it used to be. West also had to admit that East looked more tired these days than he had been before; whether that was because he just didn't sleep very well or if it was because his overall stamina was leaving him, too, the young nation just wasn't quite sure yet. Of course, East hadn't exactly been as physically active as he used to be back in his prime, which for him had resulted in loss of muscle. He still looked perfectly fit, with broad shoulders and strong, muscular arms at least, but it just wasn't like it used to be, when he had been so strong and able-bodied he almost looked like a human tank. He had always been such a powerhouse, the only nations who looked like they could overpower East Germany had been Scotland (only because he was almost as muscular and quite a bit taller than the albino), Sweden (also because he towered over East) and Russia, although the latter could easily be a draw.  
Adding those differences in East's appearance with his meeker, more withdrawn personality nowadays, East Germany really was a whole different person than Prussia had been. Except both people were Gilbert Beilschmidt, his awesome elder brother. That was the one thing that would never change about him: he always had been and always would be the self-proclaimed most awesome person on the planet. And rightfully so.  
"Do you think others really just don't notice, don't pay attention to it," West asked as he was thinking this all through, "or do you think they all just decided keep quiet about it?"  
Austria shrugged. "I don't know. I think it might actually be the latter." He looked directly at his younger cousin when he said this, his gaze calm. "Maybe they noticed how none of us ever speak about it openly, and decided not to mention it to us. Kind of like what we're doing with the UK and Ireland now." He frowned for a moment, then added more bitterly: "On the other hand, there are plenty of nations who wouldn't be so considerate. Which, actually, makes me feel bad for the UK now, too. I believe people pestering them about Ireland is about the last thing they could use at a time like this."  
 _Just like we really didn't want people to bother us about Gilbert after his stroke, or about the imprisonment in the war…_ West also truly felt bad for the British nations. He didn't know any of them well enough to know exactly how they felt about Ireland, but he knew about Scotland, partly from his own experience and partly from what East had told him, that the Scot loved his elder brother dearly. He could imagine Northern Ireland disliking the older Irishman by now, after the Troubles had lasted so long, and England had never seemed to get along with his eldest brother. But then, he _had_ gone straight after Ireland at the UN, when the ancient nation had been acting off. He couldn't imagine any of them _not_ being heartbroken if they lost Ireland.  
Even though he had managed to keep those thoughts mostly to the background, West had been grieving for his brother's impending death for many years by now. He had never wished these feelings on anyone, and it hurt him to know that others were going through the same thing right now. But at the same time, it hurt almost as much to know that they might not lose their brother at all, whereas for West, it was an inevitable fact.

* * *

Near the end of the year, there was a meeting of the EEC. It was common knowledge that Ireland had survived the ordeal, having woken up several weeks before the meeting. No one knew the condition he was in, though. West knew that there were plans to ask the UK about it at the EEC, hoping it wouldn't be as painful a subject anymore now that it was certain Ireland would survive.  
Now that this was a certainty, though, his jealousy, somehow, got only worse. He didn't see how or why he was envious of a family who had just gone through months of hellish uncertainty and suffering, but he was. _At least their suffering turned out to be temporary._  
But then, it might not be, right? Ireland had been in a _coma_ , for Heaven's sake; that he was still alive was no guarantee that he was all right now. Consequences could differ depending on the cause, but West Germany was fairly certain weeks or months of coma could easily be enough to damage a person's brain. Things for them might even be harder now because of the state their eldest brother could be in than if he hadn't survived.  
 _But at least he survived_ , a voice would retort whenever he tried to reason with himself like this. _At least they still have their brother, and will have him around for a while yet. Not only that, they can also go to him and talk to him whenever they like.  
All the while, __**you're**_ _still condemned to staying separated from your brother for fifty-one weeks a year for God only knows how many more years to come. And when -_ _ **if**_ _\- that ever ends, how long do you think he'll have left? You're right to feel envious, don't worry about that. It doesn't make you into a bad person, you know? It only mean you've had enough of this, and rightfully so. So why not put an end to it?_  
But how could he ever do such a thing? Much as he wished he did, West did not control anything that happened. And besides, even if he did, all this had been emplaced more or less as a punishment to his people for the cruelties they had unleashed on the world. All that had been only 40 years ago now.  
 _It has been forty years indeed. Nearly half a century later, and you still think you and your people need to tiptoe around to be accepted in the world? Do you honestly? Don't make me laugh. You have more than paid for your own mistakes, your people have worked hard to right their wrongs, even while knowing such a thing is impossible to do. It is their effort that makes their repentance. You and your people both are respected again, relied upon by other nations, you have earned your place back in the world. So go right ahead and do something about this. Show the world that you won't take such injustice any longer._  
But he couldn't. Right? He couldn't.  
Thoughts like those kept swirling around in West Germany's mind in the days leading up to the EEC meeting. But he kept telling himself there was no injustice; he just had to put up with this. He wasn't the only person in the world who suffered, that much was a fact. And the Wall had been put in place, not to punish him, but because the East German government had decided it should be there. Surely they had their own reasons for it, perhaps even valid reasons. East had once told him it had been to prevent the majority of the East German population leaving the country; to keep the economy running, to keep the nation alive. That other people suffered because of it, well, that was just an unfortunate side-effect. Regrettable, but not up to him to change.  
But then the day came that the EEC meetings began. It started out about as chaotic as usual, with nations catching up on each other's news before in the minutes before the real meeting would commence. There were nations talking, gossiping, laughing a bit. Until the doors opened to reveal the UK nations, all four of them, and Ireland right behind them.  
West Germany was pleased for the five of them, of course, that despite what had happened, the old nation was well enough now to even attend meetings like these again. But it also instantly silenced his own protests to what his subconscious had been telling him all this time. He really _was_ the one who had to go through the most misfortune. Others could go through Hell and back again, but at least they got to that last part, the 'going back again'. Their problems had solutions, even if it took a while to get there. His didn't, or at least not that he knew of. Except for one thing. _One thing_ that could pose as a solution to his situation and problems. And he was determined now to get it done.  
 _That Wall needs to come down._

* * *

East Germany looked up from the book he had been reading when he heard the door open. He closed his book and put it aside before getting up and going into the hallway. The albino nation smiled a little when he saw Russia and the others putting aside their bags and hanging up their coats. They all just came back from the 1982 UN General Assembly, meetings East had unfortunately missed this year.  
"Hi, guys," he greeted the other nations quietly from where he stood. "How are you all?"  
Poland grunted as he picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulder with an annoyed, tired look on his face. "Jetlagged," was all he said when he passed East Germany, probably on his way straight to bed.  
Lithuania nodded, and Belarus also seemed to agree. "What he said… No matter how many times you do it, it's a long flight."  
"You seem to be doing better, though," Ukraine said with a smile in East's direction. "Good to see. Feeling better?"  
East gave a short nod. "Much. Thanks for asking." He had caught a virus just two days before the UN meetings would start, and it had been decided the morning before everyone had to leave that East should skip this year and take the time to get better. Russia had taken over for him whenever necessary, and for this once a human from East's government had been present in the meetings for nation personifications.  
Of course, East hadn't stayed home very willingly. If he hadn't been hunched over the toilet just hours before their plane was due to take off, the others would have had to strap him down to prevent him from going. Instead they had _almost_ had to do that. All week, though, his thoughts had been all about his little brother. This would have been the one week this year that they could see each other, and now, because he just had to be sick on the wrong few days, they would have to wait another year. Hungary had promised to explain the situation to the young nation, and to take the time to sit and talk with him instead of East this time around.  
When East Germany looked at her, she soon caught his gaze, and flashed him a quick smile as if to say she would be with him shortly. The albino nation then turned to Russia instead. "So did anything happen that I need to be aware of?"  
Russia nodded tiredly. "Naturally. Not right away, though," he added, just before breaking off into a yawn. "Right now it's time for sleep… I'll tell you everything you need to know tomorrow, all right?" After saying this, the tall nation went away in the direction of his room, stumbling a little, and East looked after him with a stab of guilt. If he hadn't been sick, Russia wouldn't have had to do double the work last week. He would have to make it up to him somehow.  
Most nations went straight to bed then, following Russia and Poland's example. Romania and Bulgaria went to the living room to talk, and Czech sat down close to them and got a book from her bag and sat down much like East had earlier.  
Meanwhile, Hungary walked over to East and hooked her arm with his. She said a quick greeting, then reached out to touch his forehead, frowning pensively before smiling. "You really do not have a temperature anymore," she concluded happily, and East had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at this. Sometimes she honestly stated the obvious.  
The young woman then pulled him along, smiling still. "Now come on, there's some things I just need to tell you before I head off to bed, also. And honestly, I'd prefer to have it done quickly. I'm kind of tired, too."

The two nations went to a quiet room and sat down together. The first thing East asked, of course, was how his little brother had been doing.  
"He was very well," Hungary replied calmly. "Sad that you couldn't be there, of course, but he did understand. In fact, he quite literally said he would rather wait another year than to have you push yourself too hard just to be there. He was worried about you for a moment, but when I said it was just a normal flu and was bound to pass within days, he didn't seem too bothered anymore."  
The Hungarian's expression darkened a little after she'd said this, and she sighed. "He told me something, though, that's… quite bad. It seems we all missed out on quite the excitement last year -and not the good kind of excitement, either."  
East Germany blinked in confusion, getting curious. "What do you mean? What happened?"  
Hungary shook her head slowly, as if she could still barely believe it herself. "Do you recall how Ireland had been acting weird last year? Apparently whatever it was, was bad enough that he ended up in a coma, barely hanging on to life, for months. He survived and he's up and running again, but don't you find it strange that none of us heard about it as it was going on last year? A European nation might have died and we, who live on the same continent, wouldn't have heard until the meetings last week." She sighed in exasperation. "I can't believe it, really. It's crazy."  
East Germany struggled to take in that information. So was that why Ireland had been seeing Britannia last year? Had she been trying to tell him something about this? Or was it because something similar to what had caused East to be able to see ghosts had happened to Ireland, too, and that had also caused him to get into a condition like that?  
More than any of those things, though, he wondered about the same thing Hungary did. How could something like that have happened without anyone in the Eastern Bloc having heard about it? East knew first-hand that communications between the east and the west weren't always the best, but that it went to this extent was a surprise to him. A very unpleasant one.  
"It's absolutely insane," he agreed, still trying to wrap his head around it. "How can communications be so bad that we don't even hear about stuff like this? Something serious could happen and we'd be left in the dark!"  
Hungary nodded, eyes wide. "What if had been West instead, or Austria? Or someone in the Benelux for that matter. Do you think we'd be informed _then_?"  
Surely no one would let someone die without informing their family or closest friends? Someone would have found a way to let the Eastern Bloc know what was going on if it had been more personal to any of them. Or at least, that's what he hoped. Right now, East just couldn't be sure anymore.  
Hungary seemed to be thinking the same thing, because she narrowed her eyes in disdain and huffed. "All because of those goddamn closed borders! I swear, Gilbert, I _will_ find a way to open my borders again. I won't let anything of this scale happen without my knowing about it ever again."  
Determination coursed through East Germany like liquid fire, and he tensed up in sheer frustration. All thanks to those closed borders, indeed. All thanks to that _thing._  
"Even if I have to do it with my bare hands, I will make sure my borders will open again, too. The Wall _will_ fall, I promise you. My people and I have been cut off from the world long enough now. I'll see it torn down, if it's the last thing I do."

* * *

 **But hey, at least there was history in it, right? The Coffee Crisis was mentioned, and so was the oil crisis of the late 70s/early 80s.  
Also, shameless advertising for my own fanfics, but if you want to know what happened to Ireland... there's always Rising and Trouble to try out ;)  
**

 **I honeslty hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope to be able to upload within at least two weeks again, maybe sooner. But I wouldn't count on it I'm afraid. Still, I can cross my fingers for inspiration, right?**

 **Thanks all for reading!**


	49. Chapter 49

**Hi everyone... I'm so, so sorry this took so long. I can't believe it's nearly been a month. I have been really busy and also really tired, and I have been doing other hobbies to relax a bit in between, as writing just didn't seem to work as well as it used to.**

 **But I did once promise that I would never leave this story unfinished, and it's a promise I'm going to keep. It will likely take a little while, but then, this story is nearing it's end, anyway.**

 **Thanks to everyone who's decided to stick with me and this story despite my long absence. I'm sorry for not updating in so long, but at least I can give you this new chapter now. Better late than never, right?**

 **I love you guys. I seriously do. And I really am sorry.**

 **Now on to the chapter, right?**

* * *

In 1985, Russia got a new leader. This man, Mikhail Gorbachev, seemed quite promising from the start. Yet the nations in the Eastern Bloc were uncertain what to think of this man at the same time. They had been so used to the government trying to maintain the _status quo_ , upholding the purest form of communism, and now here was a man in charge who seemed progressive.  
It was clear that things needed to change, that much could not be denied: Russia's economy had worsened over the course of the 80s so far and a solution needed to be found. Some people stated they needed Western technology and Western policies to solve these problems. Others didn't quite agree, preferring to stick to the old ways.  
The Eastern Bloc nations all had different ideas about it, also.

East Germany watched, a little anxiously, as the nations around him argued about the situation.  
"I'm telling you, this is what we've all been waiting for, for, like, ages!" Poland insisted, an excited light in his dark green eyes as he looked at the others. "This is our chance to be free!"  
Hungary grinned, but just as she opened her mouth to reply to this, Belarus cut her off. The girl was glaring at Poland. "Be free?" she echoed indignantly. "Free of what? Order and stability? Are you insane, Felix?"  
Czech raised an eyebrow at this comment, looking at Belarus calmly. "Uh, excuse me?" she said a little disbelievingly. "What 'stability' are you referring to? I don't know if you've noticed, but your dear big brother is sick at the moment; his economy, like ours, is declining. How is that stability?"  
"But the way things have been going the past years _did_ work for us," East put in quietly, still a bit confused himself. "We've all been doing well. We've all been thriving." His own economy hadn't been as stable as it had been the past years for a long time. He still hadn't been doing as well as he had a century ago, but at least his health had been mostly stable. The steady decline, for what he could tell anyway, had slowed down significantly. How was this not a good thing?  
Poland rolled his eyes at this and scoffed. "We've been _oppressed_ , East," he argued. "How can _you_ , of all people, think of this as 'thriving'? Just a little while ago, you were all for progress!"  
"Yes," East replied, shaking his head in frustration. "I want to bring down that godforsaken Wall and have access to my little brother again. I want to improve communications so that we can keep track of what's going on around the world. None of that means I want to change the entire state of the economy, of politics, or anything!" He took a deep breath and sighed, folding his hands into loose fists. "How do you think liberalization will go for us, communist states as we are? Our governments, economies and people aren't ready for change like this. They can't handle it!"  
In an instant, all eyes were turned on him, some gazes with a look of shock, others of pity. One or two, including Poland, only looked at him in contempt, however. "No, East," Poland retorted with an eerie calm. " _You_ can't handle it."  
East Germany looked down, feeling another spark of anxiety. He had those a lot in just a few minutes' time now. "I-I think it would be quite straining on everyone," he protested feebly, knowing that he had just inadvertently moved this conversation in a direction he'd rather avoid.  
Lithuania sighed in exasperation. "Gilbert, please," he grumbled. "We all know you're the least resistant to disease of us all. Just admit that you're afraid of the consequences, and spare yourself the humiliation of constantly denying it."  
Anger flared up in East now, too, and he narrowed his eyes at Lithuania. "It's true that I would not particularly like to be bedridden or worse because of this, but I'm also thinking about this practically. If we now tried to change the system that had worked for us and been in place for decades, it would lead to chaos. Not just for me, not just for Russia, either. It would be difficult to deal with at the very least. At worst, it would be nothing short of disastrous."  
Hungary sighed and gave her friend a gentle nudge. "Relax, Gil," she said calmly. "I'm sure it won't be as bad as you think." The look she gave East was a kind one, but didn't make him feel any better.  
He met her gaze for only a brief moment before he looked away uncomfortably, feeling as if no one bothered to take him seriously at all right now. "…We'll see…"

* * *

For two years now, West Germany had been keeping track of the changes in Soviet and East German politics to the best of his abilities. The new leader of the Soviet Union promoted liberalization, something West had never expected a Soviet leader to do, and much to his surprise, the East German government appeared to be resisting this as much as they could. Overjoyed as he was to see the communists easing up a little, West just couldn't understand why the East German government wouldn't want to follow down the same path. He also couldn't help but wonder if his brother sided with Gorbachev or his own government in this. The young nation wanted nothing more than to believe East was protesting against his government's stubbornness, but he had seen proof in over a decade's worth of UN meetings of how much East Germany had embraced the ideology that had been forced upon him. It was hard to deny that East Germany was a communist as much as Russia.  
But even so, West remained hopeful that finally, change was on the horizon. To his knowledge, the East German government had always loyally followed the Soviet Union in the end; there might have been the occasional revolt or rebellion, but all of that had mostly been in the past, and they had ended up loyal to the Soviets. So if it was now a Soviet leader promoting liberalization and change like this, perhaps the East Germans would once again follow suit, albeit after some hard-headed protests.  
Only days before, the American President Reagan had been in West Berlin, holding a speech at the Brandenburg Gate. He had urged Gorbachev to take down the Wall. West had been listening with bated breath, hopeful, if a little sceptical, also; he could see where that demand came from and agreed fully, naturally, but maybe it was a bit too soon yet to start saying things like that.  
But even if the Wall would remain standing, West believed that the Cold War that had been going on for decades now was finally drawing to a close: both parties wanted peace and prosperity for their people, and with a more liberal-minded man as the Soviet Union's leader, an agreement between the two enemy sides might be closer than ever before. West still vividly remembered the few times the world had been on the brink of another World War over the past decades, and he thought only a permanent reunion with his elder brother now could make him feel any better than a definitive peace agreement between the USSR and the USA would.  
West had spoken to Austria about this several times now, and the older nation thought the same thing West did. Sooner or later, things would be solved. Sooner or later, they would be reunited with everyone they had been separated from. They just had to be patient a little bit longer.  
It was only a matter of time now.

* * *

"Okay, laddie," Scotland said as he sat East Germany down, taking his own place in front of him. "Spill it. What's the matter?" The old kingdom kept his gaze fixed on his albino friend, with an intensity that made East Germany nervous and fidgety just sitting in front of the Scot.  
"Have you been able to keep track of my political developments…?" East just asked softly, turning his gaze to the floor. "Because if you have, there's your answer."  
There came no answer for a few seconds after this, then Scotland let out a soft sigh. "Right. Changes like those can be quite straining, I know. But…" He trailed off for a moment, and East Germany felt a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, Scotland was still staring him straight in the eyes. "Think about the good things this can accomplish."  
East shrugged. He'd been trying to do that for years now. But the more things changed, the more nervous he became. "How can I think of the good things," he said in a soft voice, a little hoarsely, "if I might not be around to witness them at all?" So far, things weren't as bad as he feared it might become, but his health was definitely suffering under all the things that were going on. He had spent quite some time building up his stamina again and regaining as much of the physical strength he'd once had as he could, and now he just didn't have the energy anymore. He felt as if all that progress was for nothing. All this time, he had tried not to think about how bad things were shortly after the dissolution of Prussia, but not that his health was declining once again, he couldn't help but remember just how sick he had been, how much it had scared him to be like that. He didn't want that to ever happen again. As much as he wanted a chance to see West Germany more often than he did now, he found himself wishing he wouldn't be in that bad a state ever again almost as much as, if not more than he wanted to be with his little brother. And it was feeling that way that scared him almost as much as the thought of being so ill again. Had he grown so used to being apart from West? Had he simply become so selfish? He didn't know how to feel or what to think anymore.  
It was moments like these he wished he could touch Brandenburg or Holy Rome even more than he normally did: Brandenburg was sitting next to him and his elder brother stood close by, with Württemberg also not too far away and watching quietly. Much more than before, he wished he could touch them, feeling a strong urge to just hold someone's hand, with the childish belief that that one action would chase away his fears.  
At the same time, however, the mere thought of being able to touch them filled him with dread. For so long he had believed he was ready for this, that he wasn't still scared of dying, but he wasn't ready, and he was terrified. He felt pathetic over it, but it was true.  
Finally he dared to meet Scotland's gaze directly, and he nearly flinched at the sadness he saw in his friend's eyes.  
Scotland's pale blue eyes were full of regret, and for a moment he didn't seem to know what to say. Then he closed his eyes and nodded silently. He took a deep breath before looking back up at East. "Who's to say it will be that bad?" he argued gently, his voice soft and soothing. "Gilbert, don't give up on yourself so soon. You've always been incredibly strong."  
"But I'm not anymore!" East protested, shaking his head. He folded his trembling hands into fists nervously. Why couldn't Scotland see what was right in front of him? "I'm tired now and I'm sickly. I'm _weak_ , physically and mentally. I'm constantly nervous and scared, and I don't want to be like that. I was never like that before."  
Scotland didn't reply for a moment, but then he concluded bluntly: "You're scared of death."  
East shook his head again and shrugged. "Not death per se," he admitted quietly. "I'm just terrified that the way in which I'll die will be… painful. Or scary. Uncomfortable." He took a deep breath, trying to suppress his fear. "I don't want to be as sick as I was after the dissolution ever again. For a month, I was in pain with every breath I took. In the last few days, before they finally decided to take me to hospital, I could barely breathe at all. It hurt, it was exhausting, it was terrifying. I'm just so scared I'll end up like that again. Or, what could perhaps even be worse…"  
He trailed off, glancing to his side. Brandenburg looked surprised, but then she smiled warmly and nodded. When East Germany looked at Holy Rome and Württemberg, they too were smiling encouragingly at him. He had opened up about this before, in front of people he trusted far less than the man who was sitting in front of him right now. It was about time he stopped keeping this a secret from who had been one of the best friends he'd ever had for decades.  
East Germany glanced around quickly, making sure no one was around to hear him now. Then he took a deep breath and looked at Scotland again. "Allistair, do you remember what happened in 1932?"  
For a moment, the Scot seemed surprised, then he looked as if he was digging in his memory, and finally he nodded. "You collapsed during a meeting, right? You said it was exhaustion, but Arthur said he didn't believe that."  
East nodded, his chest tight with anxiety now. He really was doing this. "He was right, it wasn't true what we told everyone. I effectively lost my government that day. Allistair, I… I had a stroke." He could see the shock in Scotland's expression as he told him this, saw his eyes widening in horror. The albino had to force himself to go on. "I could have died as a result of that day, you know. Quite easily so. I'm so lucky to not have any lasting effects such as muteness, blindness or paralysis or anything, really. In hindsight, it kept me from having to fight in the war, so that's one good thing. But I've been taking pills for my blood pressure for decades now." Feeling utterly defeated after telling Scotland all this, East Germany shrugged with a deep sigh. "My health has been declining since the start of the century, and in the past fifty-odd years I've nearly died three times -the Prussian Coup, the destruction of Königsberg and the dissolution." He felt warm tears trying to well up, but he fought them back as he shakily took a deep breath. "I believe that, by now, my body just can't endure another such hit."  
There was a heavy silence between the two friends for a moment after this, Scotland staring down at the floor, wide-eyed, as he seemed to struggle to take all this in. But then he shook his head in disbelief. "How did you survive each of those things?"  
East blinked, averting his gaze after. "I'm only alive now because I was lucky enough to have people around me who could take me to hospital in time."  
"Exactly," Scotland cut him off sharply. The old kingdom was staring him straight in the eyes again, a determined glow in them. "And that's how you'll survive next time, too, if it comes to that. You've got people around you who would do that for you, Gil. The medical world is so far advanced compared to what it used to be, you won't be in the same situation your brother was in if you get sick. There's better medicine now, improved techniques and technology for surgery… You'll make it. We're not going to let you go anywhere, you know? We just won't let you."  
East Germany was already feeling choked up upon hearing those words, but then Scotland gave it the finishing touch, which finally managed to bring tears to the younger nation's eyes. "And if by any chance you do suffer another stroke, for example," the Scot said more quietly. "And if you survive it but have those lasting effects that you mentioned… Gilbert, couldn't you have figured out yourself that, if you were ever to go blind for any reason, I would be there in an instant, teaching you tricks to help you cope with it? I've done the entire going blind thing, thankfully temporarily, and while it's not a pleasant experience, it's not so bad once you're used to it. It's not the end of the world, you know? I promise it's not." The Scot sat back then, crossing his arms over his chest, a confident grin on his lips. "And in case it wouldn't be that, but paralysis, well… I've got a little brother who's unfortunately got over two decades of experience in that field, also. I could arrange for Wales to help you deal with that. Muteness? There are ways to cope with that. Cognitive problems? Look, if we're talking about amnesia, Ireland's had a mild case of that after his coma." He let out a dry laugh then. "Honestly, listing it like this, I wonder if there's anything my little family _hasn't_ had to deal with yet! And we're not the only ones who've had to deal with difficult things like those. Gilbert, I swear to you, you've got more people who could help you than you might think, no matter what happens. I know you probably think otherwise, but we're here for you."  
East was struggling to breathe for a moment after this, pressing his lips tightly together and folding his hands into shaking fists. How foolish he had been all this time, and selfish in a way, too. The things he had been so scared of all the time were things plenty of others had to deal with on a daily basis. Not just humans; nations, too. Scotland had been blind for a year, Wales had spent decades in a wheelchair. His own family had had to deal with some of these things, even: Holy Rome had been sick more often than not in his final years, and he had just gone on living his life as usual in the time he had left; Württemberg had always had to walk with a cane and had never once complained. East Germany himself had condemned Austria to a thankfully brief period in a wheelchair once, and the damage he had done had permanent effects.  
There were people who had to live with pain, sickness or disabilities in their daily lives, an endless ordeal. What right did he even have to feel as if being confronted with such things would be the end of his life? What right did he even have to feel as if he could just as well give up if such a thing happened to him? For years now, he had kept himself going by telling himself he had people to live for, that his purpose in life, if nothing else, was to always be there for them. His own fears changed nothing about that! He _still_ had people to live for, whether he was afraid or not. And no doubt those people would do whatever they could to ensure his survival. He could have known those same people, at least, would also do anything in their power to make the remainder of his life bearable at the very least.  
A long time ago now, in the bleakest of times, he had still believed life to be worth living. Why would it be any different now? Besides, even if he no longer bore the name Prussia, the nickname he had once been given was still his. He always had been and always would be the Legendary Black Eagle, and he wouldn't chicken out of anything.  
Confidence pumping through his veins for the first time in months, East took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could feel his anxiety ebb away in that moment, and when he opened his eyes to look at Scotland again, he felt completely at ease.  
East Germany smiled. "Thank you, Allistair," he said softly. "You have no idea how much that means to me… I don't know how you do it, really," he added then, snickering for a moment. "You always seem to know just what to say. Thank you so much."

* * *

In 1989, the changes the nations had all anticipated for a while finally came. In August that year, Poland got his first non-communist Prime Minister in many years, and in September, he was the first to have a non-communist government, also. Hungary was the next to bring an end to the communist regime. The Hungarians had managed to do something significant earlier on in the year, too, however: in May, they had begun removing the border fence on Hungary's border with Austria.  
This proved to be a problem for East Germany and Czechoslovakia, though, when their citizens began a mass-emigration to the West through Hungary. Czech, East and Slovakia were all severely weakened by the end of summer.  
It was at the end of September that the East German government restricted travel to Hungary, and in early October they closed their border with Czechoslovakia. They had decided it would be best for the state of the economy and for the nation overall to do so, and when the massive loss of people had led to East Germany coughing up blood in the middle of a meeting, this had only strengthened their resolve.  
The East Germany government refused to accept change. East had believed the day would never come that he would the Soviets telling his government to be more flexible and allow reforms, and his government downright refusing to. But exactly that happened in early October. Throughout the month, there were several demonstrations by the public. The border with Czechoslovakia was opened again early in November.  
And finally, on 9 November, the time had come for perhaps the most impactful event in East Germany in many, many years.

East Germany hadn't been to meetings for a few days, having been told to rest up at home now that the political instability caused him ever more trouble, but he had been kept up-to-date through frequent phone calls. He was aware of the plans his government had to allow travel to West-Berlin. When he was watching a press conference on TV later that day, however, it still came as a shock to hear the spokesperson say that the changes were to take effect immediately. He hadn't been informed of _that_. Was it a mistake? If it was, it had the potential to be a grave one.  
He wasn't too surprised to receive another phone call very soon after this had been stated in the press conference. The man on the other end of the line sounded distressed.  
"Mister Beilschmidt, have you been watching the press conference?" the human asked immediately, cutting East Germany off when the nation tried to say a quick greeting.  
East hummed. "Naturally. And I assume a mistake was made?"  
"Quite," was the nervous response. "We've just received intel that masses of people are swarming the crossing points along the Wall, and the guards simply don't know what to do with them."  
Well, that sure sounded like a valid cause for the pounding headache East was having at that moment. His heart skipped a beat. "So… so what do we do now?"  
The human sighed deeply. "I don't know, Gilbert… I'm sorry. This is turning out far more chaotic than anyone had anticipated." There was another voice in the background, too soft and distorted for East to make out the words. The human he was speaking to exclaimed something, his voice somewhere between scared and angry, then he sighed once more and spoke to his nation again. "The crowds proved to be too overwhelming for the border guards. Some of them have opened the crossing points for everyone."  
The nation felt a spark of fear, but he immediately tried to suppress it. This was nothing to be afraid of. It wasn't necessarily something bad. "I suppose they had no other choice," he replied as calmly as he could.  
Then it suddenly hit him. The border with West Berlin was open. Everyone could cross the border if they wanted to. _I can see Ludwig!_  
His heart pounding in excitement rather than fear now, East Germany smiled warmly at the though. "Well then, sir," he said to the human on the other end of the line. "Assuming the border will still be open come tomorrow morning, may I take this opportunity to visit my little brother in West Berlin tomorrow? Not to worry, though: defecting to the West is the last thing I want to do. I will be back by nightfall."  
"Oh, why not," the human said with an exasperated sigh. Somehow East got the feeling that exasperation had nothing to do with his request just now. "Everything is chaotic and confusing right now, anyway. If you really do plan on coming back quickly, I don't see the harm in it. Will you be all right travelling on your own, though? In your current condition…"  
"Good sir, we're talking about seeing my little brother here," East replied with a short laugh. "There's no amount of political instability, mass-emigration and chaos that can keep me from doing that. I will make it, even if I have to reach his house crawling."  
Even now, this managed to make the human chuckle as well. "In that case, good luck."  
East nodded, grinning wide. "You too, sir, and the rest of you working there. If you don't mind, I'll try to stay out of this mess for tonight. If I want to be of any help by tomorrow, or ever really, I'll need two things right now: paracetamol and my bed." He was scared, excited and happy all at the same time, and it wasn't such a bad feeling, but by God did his head feel like it could explode. He would need a serious time-out right now, and hopefully tomorrow things would have settled down sufficiently for him to be of any use to anyone.  
Tomorrow he would see West, and he wouldn't even have to travel to the other side of the world to do it. He could just go out, walk for half an hour, and he would be with _West_.  
 _What are the odds I'll die tonight?_ East Germany snickered to himself as he put down the phone and got up. _I was able to keep my promise in the end after all. Ludwig, I swore to you that I would live to see the day we would be reunited.  
Well, I do hope you're home tomorrow, little brother!_

* * *

West Germany could only think that he was dreaming. He went out for a walk with Berlitz first thing in the morning, like he always did, and found more people out on the streets than ever before.  
'The border has opened!', or so the people had told him. Had it really? He had found it hard to believe. He altered his route immediately and went past the Wall. And indeed, the border guards were letting anyone through without any problem.  
After seeing this confirmation, he had gone around asking if people knew what had happened. There were people from East Berlin around now, too, and they could tell him in more detail than any of his own people. Apparently there had been an official statement the night before that the borders would be open for everyone, starting immediately. Of course, the people had made the most of it, instantly swarming the crossing points. The guards had eventually just let everyone pass; they hadn't seemed to know very well what to do, something West could very well understand. He wouldn't exactly take well to a huge crowd of people suddenly demanding something of him that went all against everything he had ever been told to do.  
His head was spinning after he had seen and heard all this. If the borders were opened, surely that meant it worked the other way, too? He could go to his big brother in the East now. They could visit each other whenever they wanted to, if the borders would remain open now.  
In fact, he would go there this very day, just as soon as he had brought Berlitz back home.  
On the way back, though, he was still struggling to comprehend all this. What a beautiful dream this was, if it even was a dream. If it was reality, well, he didn't even know what to think of it. He had hoped for this day for so long. He had been afraid to hope for this day, unsure whether it would ever come true.  
Berlitz seemed to know that something was off, staying very close to West as they walked back home. He pressed his nose against the nation every now and then, and at one point he licked his hand soothingly. West only absent-mindedly petted him on the head for this as he tried to come to terms with all this. The minutes it took him to reach his house again felt like hours. The whole world was upside-down, really. The seemingly impossible had just taken place the night before. How _should_ he even feel about this?

By the time his house was in sight, West felt his heart skip a beat. A man sat on his porch. A pale-skinned, white-haired man with a slightly bored yet excited look in his red eyes. West halted, unable to move for a moment. He could feel his pulse quicken, his blood rushing through his veins.  
It was as if his heart was already in the process of fluttering right out of his chest. It was a struggle to find his voice at first, or at least it felt like it, but he called out to the man before he even realised it himself. "Gilbert!"  
Immediately East Germany looked up, his eyes widening in surprise and joy, and the albino jumped to his feet. He did this so quickly that he nearly tripped, but then he ran over to West with the widest grin on his face. Before he could get too close, though, Berlitz started growling in surprise, and East stopped moving immediately. "Woah there," he said to the dog, raising his arms in the air as if faced by an enemy soldier. "Unarmed, see? No need to be so defensive." When Berlitz stopped growling, East seemed to relax a bit, too. The dog was still tense and watching him cautiously, though, and the nation sighed. "I've dealt with your kind before," he said with a slight grimace. "Trust me, once is enough."  
West couldn't help but be amused. "Down, Berlitz," he said to his dog, who instantly obeyed. Turning back to East, his heart leaped again. "I just found out this morning," he said breathlessly. "Did you know it was going to happen?"  
East was smiling wide again. "That it was going to happen, yes," he replied with a chuckle. "The way it happened was a surprise, though; it wasn't exactly as planned, is all I can tell you." He laughed sheepishly for a moment. "I thought my head was going to explode yesterday, I swear! It's not so bad anymore now, thankfully. Nothing painkillers can't deal with." He blinked, silent for a few seconds, then looked at his younger brother in slight worry. "Are you feeling all right after all this?"  
West nodded. "Oh, of course, I'm fine. I'm just…" He trailed off, staring his brother in the eyes. "You're… really here…"  
East laughed at this and nodded. "Exactly how I feel!" He quickly stopped laughing, though, looking as uncertain as West felt. But after a few heartbeats, his lips twitched into a smile again. "So would that dog attack me if I hugged you now?"  
West didn't even respond. Not with words, anyway. He let go of Berlitz's leash, knowing the dog would stay right where he was, and swung his arms around his brother. It felt surreal, being able to hold his elder brother in his arms now. There had been a UN meeting just earlier this year. This was the second time this year they were together. That hadn't happened since 1947.  
When would they be split up next? How long did they have this time?  
What did it even matter. They just had to make the most of this time now. "Let's go inside. It's not exactly warm, is it?"

* * *

East was feeling dizzy with bliss as he sat in his little brother's living room for the first time in ages, holding a warm cup of coffee. Part of him still couldn't believe this was real. It was just too good to be back with West Germany after all this time.  
West had different furniture from the last time East had been there. But then, after literal decades, that only made sense. He couldn't keep his eyes off the painting on the wall; that hung where there had been bookshelves last East had seen this room. Italy Veneziano had done such a marvellous job; they all looked exactly like they had in person. To see his own likeness next to Brandenburg in the painting was a bittersweet sight. He missed that time, when they had really been together, not like they were now, together but not really, being unable to touch. He knew that it couldn't be long anymore now, though, before he could do so again. That, too, was bittersweet.  
His head was spinning slightly as he listened to West's questioning of him: how long had he known the border would be opened? Had he tried to escape through Hungary's border with Austria, also, like his people? Had Russia not given him too much trouble?  
East just answered, slightly irritated at the way West had phrased some of these things, that he had known for a little while, that there was nothing to 'escape' from and no, he hadn't tried. Russia hadn't given him any trouble at all; in fact, the man -along with his leader- had been the one pushing East and his government to allow more liberalization.  
"You mean, you didn't want any of this?" West asked, shocked and indignant. "But why not?"  
East shook his head and sighed. "No, no, it's not that I didn't want this," he replied quickly. _Although it kind of is… Was, anyway._ Now that it had happened, it wasn't so bad. This part, anyway, was perfect. The rest of it, however… "It's complicated, Ludwig. More complicated than I care to explain right now. Just so long as you know that I'm happier than ever to be with you again."  
For a moment, West was silent, staring at his elder brother. He didn't seem to want to accept that answer as the only one he would get, but then he nodded and smiled, his eyes shining with love and happiness. "Me too," he said warmly. "How long are you staying? I think we've got a lot to talk about by now."  
East sighed. His little brother was really asking all the wrong questions. "I can stay for dinner, if you're all right with that," he answered. "But I was only allowed to come here on the condition I would be back by tonight. What happened last night is a big thing, Ludwig. They need me back there, trying to solve all this. _But_ ," he added quickly, smiling at West when he saw the younger nation was about to say something to this, "I will be back soon. You can also come to visit me sometime, you know? Actually, please do!" _Maybe then you'll finally see the situation in East Berlin and the rest of the country isn't so bad…_  
Again, West looked disappointed, but only for a moment. "Sounds good," he replied, trying to smile again. "Would it be all right if I came over tomorrow? Oh, and also, would it be a problem if Berlitz came also? I can't really leave a dog home alone all day."  
 _Thank goodness he's not complaining any more than this!_ "Well, I guess it's all right," the albino nation then said. "So long as he doesn't attack my birds, that is."  
"That's a deal, then," West said, clearly happy. "As for today, of course you can stay for dinner! I do still need to go out for groceries then, though, but maybe that's something we could do together?"  
The mere thought of it filled East Germany with warmth. Even if it was for something as simple as getting groceries, just the thought of doing anything together with his little brother filled him with joy. Of course they still had their own countries to run, but at least now they could spend more time together again. For all the trouble this situation had caused and would still cause him and his people, East had to admit there were good things about this, too. Very good things.

He really would make the most of it while he still could. That was one promise he could make to himself and also his little brother, and one he would keep no matter what. The opening of the border was an opportunity he would not miss. He would spend as much time with West Germany as he still could, no matter how long or short that time would be.

* * *

 **So the borders are open and the Wall will soon be gone! Honestly, the only major thing I was still planning to write about, from the very beginning, is 1991 now. And of course, after that the story won't end just yet. There's always the aftermath, which I promise won't be as bad as one might think it could be.**

 **I sincerely hope the next chapter won't take me another month. I'm past the point of being confident enough to make promises regarding this, but I will do my best to not take so long anymore.**

 **Everyone, thanks so much for reading and not forgetting about this story altogether. I haven't forgotten about you all, either, I swear.**


	50. Chapter 50

**Hiya, everyone! Well, it wasn't a month this time. Yay :D**

 **Anyways, I've come to the realisation that university life never becomes any less busy. Just when you think you've finished your homework, you realise it's the end of the week and you should start working to finish all your assignments for Monday. And then on Monday the week starts over with a new mountain of homework.**

 **But that's all right. I chose to do this, after all.**

 **Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed again on the last chapter. It brings me so much joy to know so many of you are still reading this despite the updates slowing down significantly.**

 **I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

After the fall of the Berlin Wall, plans were being made to reunify East and West Germany altogether. West knew that his brother had reservations about this at first, and after they'd sat down and talked about it, the younger nation also understood why. There was no deadline set as of 1989, which eased both their minds: they knew it would be difficult to undergo complete reunification after spending so many years apart. If not for them personally, it would certainly be difficult for their people, who turned out to be quite different from one another and were used to entirely different things. At least if things didn't have to go too quickly, if the reunification could be a gradual process, it might be easier on everyone involved.  
Except of course it didn't go quite like that; by January 1990, it became clear that the process would be a swift one after all. Daunting as that thought was, the two brothers could both agree that it might well be the best course of action. For them, anyway. East Germany's economy had always been considered the strongest in the Eastern Bloc, but now that it was suddenly exposed to the concept of 'world economy' in ways it never had been before, it suddenly crashed, and it crashed hard. The most pressing matter, it seemed, was economic reunification. East Germany couldn't go on like this for much longer.

For the nation himself, the poor state of the economy left him near-bedridden. Leaving the house was close to impossible. As a result, West stayed with his brother to help look after him. At first East protested against this, of course, or at least against being cared for, but it took him only two days to quiet down about it and accept the situation as it was.  
West was happy to do it, although he couldn't deny he would have preferred if it were in his own home, if only for the lack of space in his brother's apartment. West had opted to sleep on the couch in the living room, only because the alternative would have been an old matrass on the floor in his brother's bedroom. Much to East's initial dismay, Berlitz couldn't be left at home, so the dog was there, too. He never had been a small one, but in this cramped apartment, Berlitz sometimes looked like a bear. Worst of all was that he happened to like East's birds, but the fondness was completely one-sided. Whenever Berlitz sat by their cage, watching the two little animals curiously, they birds would twitter frantically, which eventually would agitate Berlitz and cause him to bark at them.  
For this, the birds had been moved to East's bedroom, which had been declared a dog-free area.

"Can you believe it?" West huffed as he read reports that had been sent this way. "The UK and France really go out of their way to show the world how against all this they are. Calling German Reunification a threat and all that… Bunch of idiots, they are."  
Across from him, East sat shivering a little, a cup of tea in his hands and a blanket over his shoulder. He was ghostly pale but his cheeks were flushed with fever. The sick nation still managed to chuckle softly, though. "Oh, yes," he rasped in response, laughter twinkling in his eyes. "But of course they are! After all, aren't you and I just the most dangerous duo on this planet?" He ended in a cough, almost as if to drive the point home.  
West smiled as he looked at him, then he glanced back at the report and shook his head amusedly. "Well, at least the French admit that they can't do anything about it."  
After shrugging at this, East let out a shaky sigh. "To be quite honest, I can't blame them that much. I mean, while it seems ridiculous to fear a nation that is undergoing such major internal changes, that is in complete and utter chaos and -for a part anyway- has to deal with an economy like _this-_ " The albino gestured to his pitiful position when he said this. "-it _has_ happened before. Now of course, _we_ know better than to fear our governments going militaristic and homicidal again, but they have a perfectly good reason for being scared of exactly that. If no one else, I can at least understand Israel's reservations regarding this."  
West nodded and put the reports down again, looking at his brother. He could understand all that, too, but there was still something else about it that almost pissed him off, even. "It's just ridiculous that, until recently, they all said they completely supported any possible reunification, and now that it's a work in progress, just look how that turned out." He couldn't help but grunt at the sheer stupidity of it. "They really are a bunch of dimwits at times. Cowards, too."  
"Can't argue with that," East snickered softly. He shifted a little and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "They know they can't stop it, Ludwig, so it will be fine; they will all see in due time that we're not a threat, and then everyone will quiet down about it."  
"Probably." West took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts away. The world could be foolish, that was a lesson he had learnt a long time ago. He shouldn't have expected any better, really. Instead of focusing on that anymore, he checked his watch; he had a meeting to go to in the afternoon, and the time was nearing that he would have to leave. "I'll be going in twenty minutes," he said to his elder brother. "Will you be all right on your own?"  
East gave him a stare for this, slight annoyance but mostly amusement and warmth in his gaze. "What do you think?" he rasped, smirking a little before he chuckled. He drank the last of his tea and put the empty cup on the table in front of him then. West watched as the albino nation heaved himself to his feet, trembling a bit. "I'll be 798 years old in a few days' time. Do you really think that in all those years, I haven't been in this state on my own yet? I don't prefer it, I'll admit, but I can look after myself even like this."  
Once East Germany was standing, however, he closed his eyes with a look of discomfort. West instantly had a guess of what was going on, and he shot up from where he sat to support the older nation as he stumbled.  
With a soft grunt, East regained his balance that way, and then he suddenly laughed softly. "I'll be fine so long as I don't decide to go for a stroll," he said jokingly. "Mind you, I seriously doubt I will. Dammit, fevers really know how to do a number on one's balance, don't they?"  
"They certainly do," West replied, adjusting his hold on his brother and moving his free hand to his damp forehead. "And yours seems to have grown higher since last time I checked." After concluding this, he let out a soft sigh. Looking at East in worry, he asked before even thinking: "Are you sure you will be all right? I can call it off, I'm sure they'll understand. And if they don't, that's their problem."  
"No, don't," East protested, narrowing his red-and-blue eyes in determination. "If you keep postponing these meetings for my sake, nothing will ever happen. I'll be fine, so just go." He moved away from his younger brother, peeling his hands off him and staring him straight in the eyes. "Really, Ludwig, it's fine. I'm not going anywhere if you just got to a meeting for a few hours. Okay?"  
West didn't want to give in so easily, but he couldn't argue with the fact that he had a job to do, and East probably would be fine on his own indeed. He could be scared for his brother's life all the time now, but there was no need; so long as East Germany existed, his brother would be around still. He knew that now.  
 _Which means that his survival will be questionable as soon as the reunification is over and done with…_  
But that was nothing to worry about right now. He had other things to think about, and as of yet, he still had his elder brother right by his side. That was all that mattered at this moment.  
West nodded. "Fine. But maybe it's a good idea to lie down again?"  
For this, East gave him an amused look and let out a soft sigh. "If that would make you feel better," he replied softly, smiling. "I'll likely still be in bed by the time you come back if I do, though. I do feel like I could go for a nap."  
"That's a deal then," West concluded, returning the smile his brother gave him. "Get some rest. I'll see you after the meeting."

* * *

East Germany crashed onto his bed the moment he heard the door close, announcing West leaving for the meeting. Dizzy and nauseous, he curled up with a grunt, shivering with cold.  
"Sweetheart, please," came Brandenburg's voice from behind him. She had followed him into his bedroom. "Why would you pretend you're feeling better than you are?" She sat down on the bed beside him.  
"Ludwig wouldn't let me out of his sight for a second if I didn't," East croaked in response, curling up a little further. "He's got a life, he's got other things to do than look after me." A wave of nausea hit him, and he clenched his jaws until it passed. His economy was in the worst state it had been in for many years, and he couldn't recall the last time he'd felt this bad. Of course, the near-lethal pneumonia had been even worse than this, but in a different way. Back then he had been in pain and out of breath all the time. Right now it was just fever, nausea, dizziness. It was like no matter what he did, he couldn't get any more comfortable than this, which was about as far from comfortable as could be.  
"It's not like Ludwig can do much to help, anyway," East went on, his voice hoarse and strained. "Not much anyone can do until my economy's back on the right track." He forced a little smile again and looked up at Brandenburg, who was staring down at him with a concerned blue gaze. "Besides, I've got you with me. If you're here, there's no reason why Ludwig should be here all the time, also, if he's got work to do."  
Brandenburg sighed and shook her head. "And we can do even less for you than he can. At least your little brother is capable of helping you keep your balance when you get dizzy, or he can get you a drink or something of the likes if you need anything and can't get it yourself."  
Somehow, every word she spoke came like a dagger to East's heart. He looked away again. "Don't say it like that," he pleaded softly. "Don't make it sound like I'm too weak to do anything. I'm not. Not yet."  
Brandenburg didn't respond for a moment, blinking at him. Her warm blue eyes still betrayed nothing but worry and sadness. Then she spoke softly, a little accusingly but mostly just saddened. "Prussia…"  
"That's right," East retorted, a rush of determination coursing through him. He pushed himself off his bed again and stood up. The world felt like it was spinning around him, but he retained his balance. "I'm Prussia," he said, looking straight at Brandenburg. "I'm the Legendary fucking Black Eagle, and I'll be damned if I'm too weak to do anything myself! I may be far gone right now, Brand, but I'm not _that_ far gone!"  
With a wave of dizziness, his vision momentarily went black, and when that faded again, he was on his knees on the floor. Frustrated as he was, he had to admit he'd seen it coming, and he just sighed as he reached out to grab the side of his bed. Clinging to that, he heaved himself up, not quite to his feet but rather toward the bed. He didn't even really stand up, instead he dragged himself onto his bed and lay down again.  
"Well," he choked out as he lay gasping for breath -for some reason this effort had left him breathless- looking back up at Brandenburg. "That of course doesn't take away the fact I'd be better off getting some rest now. Awesomely strong or not, sick means sick, and there's one way to get through that."  
Brandenburg managed a smile again now, too. "Exactly," she replied warmly, getting up from the bed and kneeling down beside it instead, resting her arms on the side of it and her chin on her arms. "So go to sleep now, dear. You need to rest in order to be your awesome self again as soon as possible."  
Still smiling, East Germany pulled the covers over himself and closed his eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke up again. "Brand?" he began in barely more than a whisper. "Could you… keep talking to me?"  
"You won't be able to fall asleep very well if I do," Brandenburg protested gently.  
But East could already feel his consciousness sway ever so slightly. "I will, trust me," he replied. "I'll likely fall asleep even faster hearing your voice. Please?"  
Although rarely, the two did this more often. East knew Brandenburg had run out of stories to tell him at moments like these way back when he'd been imprisoned in Auschwitz: over there, this had often been the only way for him to get what little sleep he got in those months. No matter how exhausted he was, after all the torture he would have been put through that day, hearing his beloved Brandenburg or another family member speaking to him would be the only way to ease his mind sufficiently for him to fall asleep. Getting him to sleep like this was one of the ways his family had kept him sane in that place.  
He knew that the chances of Brandenburg having something new to tell him were slim, but he didn't mind. He never had. It was the voices that mattered, not the stories they told. He felt a surge of warmth when he heard Brandenburg hum amusedly before she started talking. And despite how horrible he had felt just moments before, a warm comfort was the only thing East felt as he drifted to sleep soon after.

* * *

Halfway through February, East Germany had recovered a lot. Even so, West had decided to stay with him for a little while longer, if only because he enjoyed being able to spend so much time with his elder brother. So far, East hadn't said anything against it, and West didn't expect him to do so anytime soon. He knew that his elder brother was as happy about being reunited as he was.  
There was no way he would overstay his welcome. Right?  
There were moments where he actually wasn't so sure of that.  
Unfortunately, with the return of East's health and energy came also the return of his occasional fiery temper. However, he got pissed off about the silliest things at times. Well, silly things according to West, that is. The albino nation seemed to take them rather seriously himself.  
There was one instance where things got a little out of hand over a _drink_ , even.

"Ludwig!"  
West Germany nearly jumped in shock when he heard his brother's angry voice call out to him from the kitchen. He turned to look at the door, and only moments later, East Germany came into the room, red eyes shooting fire and a glass bottle in his hand.  
He held it up like it was some illegal object his little brother had smuggled into the house. "What the hell is this poison doing in my fridge?!"  
"Poison?" West echoed, dumbfounded. It was just a bottle of cola. "Well, I bought it...? Not my favourite thing to drink, I'll admit, but from time to time it can be nice. Have you even tried it before?" What was his brother overreacting like this for? Sometimes he had outbursts like these that West just couldn't comprehend.  
East's face contorted in utter disgust when West suggested he should try it. "No way," he snapped. "I'm _not_ drinking your filthy capitalist juice!" After saying that, he tossed the bottle to West, who could only just catch it.  
This was the craziest thing he'd heard his brother say so far, and in the past weeks, he'd heard a number of crazy things. " _Capitalist juice?_ " The young nation couldn't even begin to wrap his head around the idea. For a moment he could hardly even believe this was his very own elder brother he was speaking to. "Do you even hear yourself talk, Gilbert? What nonsense is that?"  
"Do you think I will just sit back and do nothing while you capitalists go and ruin everything my people have established for themselves in the past decades? Like hell I will. Goddammit, Ludwig, it's like your people are seriously trying to force your culture on us. That's one thing I will not stand for; go ahead with the reunification for all I care, but you will _not_ mess with my people!"  
"Okay, go back a bit," West interrupted, unable to follow anymore. Wasn't this about cola? "You're not making any sense, Gilbert." He really was trying, but it was impossible to understand the East German right now. Was he saying he was against the reunification? Didn't he comprehend that, if the reunification happened, their cultures would be merged anyway? Better, even: East's people were the ones taking over Western culture, it wasn't in any way being forced on them. Was it?  
East narrowed his eyes and huffed. Without responding immediately, he turned around, about to leave the room again. He muttered to himself as he did. "They should've never taken that blasted Wall down…"  
In an instant, West was on his feet, hands clenched into fists. "Oh, don't worry about that!" he yelled at his elder brother, enraged now. "You're doing an _excellent_ job keeping your walls up a kilometre high! Dammit, Gilbert, will you be straightforward and say what the problem is for once? This can't possibly be about a bottle of fucking _cola_ , so what _is_ going on?"  
"Leave me alone, Ludwig."  
"How about I don't?" West took a deep breath and let out a brisk sigh. "Gilbert, I'm serious. Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong or stop acting like a kid on a temper tantrum. Whichever you prefer."  
East Germany didn't respond, but he also wasn't moving. That he didn't leave told West enough; he _did_ want to get something off his chest, but he didn't know how. Or maybe he didn't even know what it was himself. But that didn't matter; West was patient enough about this.  
Two or three minutes must have passed before East finally spoke up. His voice was soft, wavering a little, the complete opposite of what he had sounded like just minutes before. "Why do they have to rush things like this…?" He sounded confused, scared, hurt. Angry, too, but in a completely different way than he had earlier. "Why can't the reunification be more… gradual? Why does it all have to happen so quickly?"  
Hearing the older nation like this, West felt bad for him. He'd been surprised when he first saw what East Berlin had become in the years he hadn't seen it. But in the months since the opening of the borders, things had already changed significantly. For West, it wasn't so much overwhelming to see this half of the city change so rapidly. For East, that must be a different story altogether.  
He took a step closer to his brother. "I know it must be a culture shock to you…" he began carefully.  
East cut him off before he could say more. "Do you? I sometimes have my doubts whether you really understand what this is like for me. I don't think you do… I don't think you can." That seemed to be all he was going to say right now.  
But West wasn't going to let it stay at just that. "You can try to explain it to me, though, can't you?" he insisted gently. "You never know unless you try. Maybe I can understand it, if you just tell me."  
The look East gave him for this was one of confusion and sadness, some regret also. "Showing might be better than telling," he said almost tentatively. "If you want to know what I sometimes… or quite often… really feel like doing." He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, then looked his younger brother straight in the eyes.  
What he said next, West had no idea. He just stared at East, dumbfounded, as the older nation said something again. It took a few moments to find his voice back again. "Was that… Russian?" What was even going on right now?  
East sighed deeply. "Yes. Ludwig, I've been speaking Russian for most of the past forty years; what did you expect? I don't particularly like it, but it's become natural for me to do so. It's become normal. The way things were the past decades was completely familiar by the end of it all, and it felt good. It felt _safe._ " He looked away. "And now it's all gone again. The thing is, Ludwig, I know things will be all right. After all, we've both survived long before that, and things went fine for a long time before the Soviet Union, but at the same time… I miss it. Part of me is glad it's over, sure, but part of me… I want it back, Ludwig. I _need_ it back."  
Hearing how desperate his elder brother was in those last words, West's heart broke for him. He reached out slowly, tentatively trying to figure out whether East would accept this gesture or not. The albino nation looked at his younger brother, his outstretched hand, then back again. He said nothing, so West laid his hand on his shoulder. "You don't need it," he said gently, hoping to sound reassuring. "You'll get past it, Gilbert. I promise you will."  
With another, softer sigh, East Germany pulled West's hand from his shoulder, only to hold it with his own. "I know…"

* * *

Over the course of the year, several treaties were signed between West and East Germany. From July onward, their economies were merged again, and near the end of August 1990, the East German government agreed to become a part of West Germany. Days after deciding this, they sent a proposal to the West German government, which they accepted.  
On 31 August 1990, representatives of both nations, including the personifications, came together to sign the Treaty finalising the reunification of both Germanies.

Looking at the treaty, pen in hand, East found himself trembling ever so slightly. This was it, then. This was the end. How long had it been since he'd found out what he was? How long had he been able to enjoy being a nation?  
For some reason, he could actually answer that question. The answer just came to him. _26 October 1211_. The day he had met Hungary, the day he had been taken into a tent, asked to cut into a kid's hand, and had then been told he was a nation. 778 years, 10 months and 5 days. That's how long he'd been doing this. Well, unknowingly he had been a nation for 19 years longer than that, but he didn't count those first years. It was what came after that fateful day that really mattered.  
The years spent trying to figure out his own identity. What an adventure that had been. How incredibly infuriating that it took him so long. How disappointed he'd been when he'd found out that he was Prussia. Looking back, he couldn't quite comprehend how he had been so disappointed by it; 'Prussia' was the best thing he'd ever been, and it had brought him all the best things in life.  
It had brought him his family. He still remembered his first meeting with the Holy Roman Empire. Back then he hadn't been able to appreciate the moment at all, having just been tortured in an attempted exorcism. Nowadays it was among his fondest memories despite how painful all that had been and how confused and hurt he'd been during his first conversation with his elder brother. It had all been worth it a million times over.  
East couldn't help but smile as he recalled his first time meeting Austria, too. He was so glad they had finally been able to come to an understanding, to set aside their differences and be the cousins they always should have been. But then, their days of teasing each other continually were precious, too. Their fights not so much, but the way East saw it, they had more than made up for their past hatred and strife now. After all this time, they cared about each other, loved one another as they were always meant to. It was all right like this. It was enough.  
How excited he had been when he'd travelled by ship for the first time. In those months, he had met Netherlands, England and Wales. The last two meetings didn't go quite as smoothly as the first, but he still cherished them. Back when he was little the event had been special to him, and for that reason it always would be.  
Brandenburg. Oh, sweet Brandenburg. She had brightened his darkest days. Back when he'd first met her, when he'd built a friendship with her and eventually got into an arranged marriage with her, he had still been under the impression no one really cared about him. In many cases, it had been the truth. In plenty of cases he had been proven wrong, but not until much later. But Brandenburg had been the first to make him feel loved unconditionally, even more than Holy Rome ever had.  
If he had never been Prussia, he would never have met her. Not quite like that, at least. If he hadn't been Prussia, he wouldn't have known Old Fritz the way he had. He would have been spared so many hardships, but he would also have been denied so much joy.  
He had a life he could be proud of when looking back on it. He had worked his way up from nothing and been thriving. He had done and achieved so much. Looking at West now -no, _Germany_ \- he could only feel pride. His greatest achievement, his ultimate pride. His little brother.  
And really, his life hadn't even been that short, had it? Not many people could say they had nearly 8 centuries to their name.  
It was fine like this. He might be signing his own death sentence right now, but he was also signing the most important treaty in his life. His last one.  
It was okay. He had been enough. He had done enough and experienced enough. It was okay.  
And with a steady hand, East Germany wrote his signature at the bottom of the paper.

As East Germany stepped back, West took his place and calmly put his signature beside his brother's. He didn't appear to hesitate for a heartbeat. That was good. But did he even realise the impact of this moment? East wasn't certain of that when he saw how calmly his younger brother went about this.  
The albino nation looked at Holy Rome, who stood watching from a slight distance. The old empire appeared to be having mixed feelings, but the strongest emotion East could see in his gaze was pride; all he had ever tried to achieve was the unity of the German States, to create a single Germany. He might not have succeeded himself, but twice now he had been able to watch his life's ambition be fulfilled. Hopefully this would also be the last time. Hopefully this unification would be permanent.  
West went to stand beside his elder brother again. "Just three days from now," he said in a whisper. "Then we'll officially be reunified. Can you believe it?"  
Barely. Just a year ago, the Wall had still been up, the borders had still been closed. This had all gone so quickly. What East found most perplexing was how he had three more days left as a nation. After all, if he wasn't Prussia anymore, and if he now also wouldn't be East Germany anymore, what would he be? He had been able to prepare for this and think about it for a long time, and while he had come to accept his fate fully now, he still struggled to wrap his head around it. Right now he wasn't even sure if he would live long enough anymore to ever do so completely. But that was all right, too. He would have all the time in the world for that after he died.  
"We'll make it a celebration."

* * *

And they did. On the evening of 2 October, Austria, Hungary, Italy Veneziano and even the Benelux all came to Berlin. Especially the latter came as a surprise to the two brothers; they hadn't thought their three cousins were quite ready to come and celebrate with them, especially if it was about something they had been opposed to at first. They had called beforehand, of course, to see if they were welcome. On the phone, Belgium had explained that they wouldn't miss this if they could help it. And besides, 3 October would also be West Germany's 119th birthday; they had missed that day often enough by now, they had decided together.  
"Didn't we tell you?" Austria said to West Germany, a smile on his lips and his dark blue eyes shining with joy. "That separation wouldn't last forever."  
"I _told_ you, Gil, you would see the day you would be back with Ludwig," Hungary added, looking at her old friend. "You didn't need to worry. You never had to." She finished with a friendly nudge, and the Prussian smiled at this.  
West was overjoyed at that moment. To have all the people closest to him all in the same room, to see his brother smile… It was all he could have hoped for and more. It felt to him as if his life was finally back to normal. After all this time, he could at last leave all the hardships he'd been through in the past. No more separation from those he cared about, no more hatred and strife. The world was as it should be again.  
"I hope the rest of the reunification process will go well for you," Luxembourg said over his mug of hot chocolate. "The simple fact that the final treaty will go into effect in a few hours, doesn't mean all the work is done. But then, between the two of you, I'm sure you can manage."  
Belgium hummed in agreement. "And besides," she added, more to Luxembourg than the others, it appeared. "The more enjoyable a certain task is, the easier it becomes, right? And correct me if I'm wrong," she then said, turning to West and East now, "but I do believe this falls under that particular category for you. Am I wrong?"  
"Not at all," East replied, still smiling. His expression turned into a more pensive one, and he sighed after a few seconds of silence. "Well, all right, there have been one or two things that I didn't quite enjoy; the state of my economy earlier on wasn't exactly something to celebrate, for one. But once things have adjusted and settled down a bit, I'm sure it will all be just fine."  
He looked at West for confirmation, and the younger nation nodded. "It's mostly Gilbert's people who will need to adjust," he explained. "But from what I've seen so far, I doubt it will be much of a problem. Given time, I'm absolutely certain things will turn out just fine. It might even be that it'll be hard to tell the difference between the East and the West in the end." It was hard to imagine right now, but he certainly wouldn't rule it out as a possibility in the future. "That at least sounds like the ideal situation to me."  
"That would be great," East agreed softly. West looked at him in surprise; his brother sounded off just then, and when he saw the look on his face, he couldn't help but feel a spark of worry. Something was wrong, obviously. But what? Well, of course, the reunification was a strenuous process, on East more than anyone else. Still, so far the older nation had only shown his support of the whole undertaking, albeit it a little hesitant from time to time. But that was mostly because it was all going a little too swiftly according to him. Aside from wanting everything to slow down a bit, he had never expressed his dislike of the reunification. Was he having second thoughts now? And if not, what _did_ he have on his mind? All West could tell was that it was troubling the older nation.  
East Germany sighed deeply and closed his eyes. "Listen, all of you," he began in a soft voice, uncomfortably fidgeting a little. "You all realise what the consequences of this reunification are for me personally, right?"  
The initial response from everyone was silence. The Benelux siblings glanced at each other questioningly, but West could tell from their expressions that their confused looks weren't so much about what East was referring to; they knew very well what he meant.  
Eventually, it was Veneziano who replied tentatively: "We… we do."  
East nodded and looked up again, his gaze trailing over each of the nations as he went on. "I'm still not entirely certain what will happen -or rather _when_ it will happen- but I have made one decision regarding all this." He paused for a moment, but when he spoke again, he did so in a steady and determined voice. "From the moment the Treaty comes into effect, I wish to be known only as Gilbert Beilschmidt. I am no longer East Germany, after all, and I haven't been Prussia for a long time. I simply think this is the logical thing to do. So please… Try to stick to using that name for me from now on."  
His words came like a punch to the gut to West Germany, and the younger nation was speechless. Why would he ask something like that? He had always been so proud of being Prussia. He had been absolutely gutted when he lost that name. Why not take this opportunity to take on his old name again?  
Hungary seemed to think the same thing. "But that's crazy!" she protested, staring at him in wide-eyed confusion. "That's who you are! You have _always_ been Prussia, why wouldn't you-?"  
But East cut her off. "That's not true." He looked her straight in the eyes when he said this, his gaze calm and somewhat soothing. "When we first met, Lizzie, how did I introduce myself to you?"  
She blinked in surprise, but then answered in a tiny voice: "G-Gilbert…"  
East nodded. "Exactly. I know that, technically, I _was_ Prussia from the moment I was born. But I was well in my thirties before I even knew that and took on that name. And I haven't been Prussia for over forty years now." He shrugged and looked away. "The one name I've had since birth is Gilbert. I know that there was a time when people rarely referred to me by that name, but it always has been my name. Look, Lizzie; I started my life as being just Gilbert. It seems fitting to end it like that, too. And besides," he added with a slight grin. "Would it really be fair to refer to me as something non-existent? From midnight onward, neither Prussia nor East Germany still _exist._ Now I don't know about you, but to me, using that name would make me feel like I'm a ghost or something. And I know I will be someday, but that might still take some time." He laughed for a moment after saying this. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves in that, right?"  
He was still somewhat surprised over his brother's decision, but after hearing this explanation, West understood. And he agreed. Who was he to decide what his elder brother should be called, after all? If East wanted this, then so be it. It was his choice, and he had clearly made up his mind.  
The younger nation glanced at the clock. Just two hours until midnight. Two hours until everything would change once again. But this time it would change for the better.

The evening passed quickly once everyone started talking about other topics. Veneziano told them a story which made even Netherlands laugh. Hungary and East then told everyone an anecdote from their time in the Eastern Bloc; there had been one particularly cold night where the heating wouldn't work, so everyone had gathered in the living room together. They had lit the fireplace, wrapped themselves in blankets and had just started talking. Later on in the evening, they had even decided to play a cards game together. That had been one of the first nights all the nations in the Eastern Bloc had been together peacefully, without there being any arguments whatsoever. For both Hungary and East Germany, it was still among their fondest memories of their time in Moscow.  
Since East expressed his curiosity over this at one point, brought on by Berlitz curling up on the floor at his feet, Austria also told them how he had come up with the brilliant idea to get West a dog all those years ago. "And it turned out well, didn't it? Aster had a wonderful life here, and as for Ludwig, well…" The nation looked down at the sleeping Berlitz with a warm smile. "I think we can all agree I made the right decision, even if it was done on a bit of a whim, admittedly."  
West Germany shrugged at this. He looked slightly embarrassed by it. "Well, you were right, after all," he said a little defensively. "I did need the company at the time, and I do still enjoy it now, too."  
Belgium chuckled a little. "Oh, don't worry about it, Ludwig," she told her younger cousin with a smile. "There's nothing wrong with keeping dogs. If you're worried it hurts your 'image', or something silly like that, it doesn't. And on that matter…" She smirked as she glanced at Netherlands briefly. "An example of that would be mister Tough Guy over here keeping _bunnies._ "  
It didn't faze Netherlands, though. "So?" he challenged his sister calmly. "They're easy to take care of and make fine companions."  
"And don't forget how _fluffy_ they are," Luxembourg added teasingly, snickering softly.  
East looked at Netherlands now, waiting until his cousin would notice and meet his gaze. When he did, the albino nation shrugged. "Don't worry, Neddie," he told the younger nation. "I like fluff, too. Doesn't make me any less badass, does it?"  
Hungary snickered now, too, and looked at East with mischief shimmering in her eyes. "No, it's not your love of fluffy, cute things that makes you less badass," she teased. "Not that."  
"Oh, so there's something else that does, then?" East asked her, having to suppress his own laughter. "Pray tell, Lizzie. I'd love to hear your opinion of me."  
Before Hungary could reply, a loud noise from outside alerted the nations. For a second or so, East thought it was explosions, and his heart skipped a beat. Then he recognised the explosions as being fireworks. Voices followed, sounding excited and happy. He looked at the clock.  
"Is it already midnight?" Veneziano queried, surprised. "Oh! Can we go outside, maybe, to watch the fireworks?"  
Austria smiled at this. "Sounds like a plan."  
Hungary already jumped to her feet, and the Benelux siblings all showed their approval as well. The albino didn't even get a chance to reply before his younger brother stood beside him and held out his hand. With a smile, he took the young nation's hand and got up, following everyone outside.

The two brothers stood side by side, their family and friends around them, watching the fireworks that signalled the start of the official Reunification. The rebirth of the nation that had shaped both their lives.  
Warmth filling his whole being, Gilbert gently squeezed his younger brother's hand.  
"Happy birthday, Germany."

* * *

 **I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I don't know what it was, but I really enjoyed it.  
Maybe the happy ending? Probably ^u^'**

 **There's a couple of chapters left for me to wrap this thing up properly, and I hope you'll all stick around for that, too. Most of all, I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks so much for reading!**


	51. Chapter 51

**Finally got this done...  
I'm sorry it took so long again. I can only keep giving the same excuse: university is a busy place, and Greek&Latin happens to be one of the worst when it comes to the weekly workload. And yet again, exams are coming.  
I'll barely even have real time off for the winter holidays -.-'**

 **Anyways, thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I really mean it, you're all awesome for sticking around this long.**

 **Then there's also a little announcement. Some may have already found it, but Tonjasprofil here on FF has started translating Cross Your Heart into German! I feel really honoured, and the translation is good for all I can tell (I know enough German to be able to read and understand it, but not enough to judge the quality completely... But it's awesome either way)  
The first two chapters are up, and Tonjasprofil has stated to intend to translate the whole thing.**

 **With that said, here's chapter 51:**

* * *

Germany knocked on the door carefully. "Gilbert? Are you awake?"  
There came no answer, and he repeated a little louder. "Brother, wake up. You need to get ready." After saying this, he waited a few seconds. Still no answer, though. Getting frustrated, Germany sighed and opened the door.  
Just as he expected, Gilbert still lay under the covers, slightly curled up, back defiantly turned to the door. When his little brother called again, finally the albino responded. "No," he muttered softly. "I'm not going, Ludwig. Just go." To drive his point home, he pulled his duvet over his head.  
With another sigh, Germany approached the duvet-wrapped ex-nation and roughly pulled the covers off him. With a stern gaze, he stared down at his elder brother, who still stubbornly refused to even look up at him. "You _are_ going, Gilbert," he insisted. "Just days ago, you still agreed to come. Even the government said you should go."  
"Yeah, well, I'm not taking orders from them anymore."  
"Gilbert, please," Germany said, getting desperate. "Just get up and come with me." No response, so he hardened his voice again. "You know that if you don't go this year, they'll make you go the next, right? They'll keep insisting until you've been there at least one more time."  
Gilbert rolled onto his back now and looked up at his younger brother with an annoyed look in his red eyes. "It's the UN, Ludwig," he said in protest. "The UN is for its staff, politicians and nations. I'm none of those. I have no business there whatsoever." He sat up with a huff and looked away grumpily. "Why should I still go through the trouble of going there? It doesn't make any sense."  
Forcing himself to appear calm, Germany sat on the edge of the ex-nation's bed. "We still need to tell the other nations what happened," he began.  
Again, Gilbert huffed. "Most of them will have heard by now, won't they? It's worthy of an award if any of them still don't know about the Reunification, honestly."  
Germany had to bite back an angry retort, and instead went on calmly as if he hadn't even heard his brother. "It's only logical that we tell them personally, anyway," he pressed. "And that we explain why you won't be there again, too. It's just the right thing to do, Gilbert." This time, Gilbert again didn't reply, so Germany forced a smile and went on: "Austria and Hungary will be there. Scotland, too. You haven't seen him in almost a year; don't you want to go, if only to be able to spend time with them? I'm sure there are more nations who will want to talk to you, too."  
He was prepared to say even more, but Gilbert looked at him again, a twinkle in his eyes. "You can shut up now, Ludwig," he interrupted the nation in a soft voice. "You had me at 'Scotland'. Now…" He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up as he spoke. "I'll have you know, Ludwig, I really am going only because I want to preserve what little semblance of social life I have. I couldn't care less about the meetings, and I'm certainly not looking forward to that little bomb we'll have to drop on everyone." He grumbled incoherently under his breath as he got himself dressed, until he turned and looked at Germany again whilst putting on his sweater. "How are we even going to tell them? _What_ are we going to tell them?" He struck a pose, raised his chin and spoke in an overly-polite tone: "Dear fellow nations. Or, that is, dear nations. As you know, Germany has become a single nation again, and therefore, I have lost my position as nation altogether. Now, by all estimations, I should have died sometime last summer at the very latest, but alas, I'm still here. Before you ask, no, I do not know how this is possible. I am also unsure as to what will happen from now on, but clearly I'm too awesome to leave just yet. If you have any questions, please do keep them to yourselves, for I do not have any desire to answer them. Goodbye, suckers. Until we meet again in Hell."  
Germany was silent for a few seconds, blinked once, and sighed then. "I'll take care of that, then," he said to his brother as he got up. "Please just hurry. We need to leave in an hour, and it doesn't look like you've even begun packing."  
"Yeah, yeah," Gilbert grumbled as he pulled a suitcase from under his bed. "Don't sweat it, Ludwig, I'll be upstairs in a few minutes. Won't be the first time I've done some last-minute packing."  
The nation watched his brother open his wardrobe and start pulling out clothes for a moment longer. He flashed him a smile then and turned to leave. "I'll take your word for it. See you in a few minutes, then."

* * *

Gilbert kept his word, and in the end the two brothers were well on time to catch their flight. They didn't talk much until they were in the air, when they had hours ahead of them in which they couldn't do much but sit and talk, anyway. Considering they were sharing this private plane with their politicians, it was a bit uneasy to talk about certain things. Still, Germany insisted.  
Gilbert tensed a bit when his younger brother asked carefully: "So, uh… What was that about, this morning? What you said?"  
Pretending not to know what he meant, Gilbert shrugged. "What exactly? I said plenty of things this morning."  
Germany stared at him in silence, one eyebrow raised questioningly. "Actually," he countered calmly, "you didn't say _that_ much, and I think you know what I'm referring to." When Gilbert didn't answer, the young nation leant in closer and went on in a whisper: "You should have died by last summer? What's that supposed to mean?"  
Getting more uncomfortable with the second, Gilbert shrugged again, raising the book he was reading a little higher and keeping his gaze fixed on it. "Just that, actually," he said softly. "I really expected I wouldn't be alive anymore by now. I don't get how I'm still here…" He shifted, refusing to look his younger brother in the eye now. "The only example I have to go off on, when it comes to how nations fare after dissolution, is Holy Rome. He barely lived a month after being abolished. And in '47, I could well have died barely a month after the dissolution, too. But now…" He shook his head with a sigh. "I've barely been sick since the Reunification, I'm still doing just fine, and I don't get it."  
Germany nodded, taking all this in carefully. "But you make it sound like it's a bad thing," he said, still sounding confused about it. "Why not celebrate the fact that you're still alive and well?"  
Gilbert bit his lip. He just didn't get it, did he? "It _is_ good," he insisted, a little impatient by now. "But I don't particularly enjoy not being able to understand things like these, and I've got no clue what I can expect in the near future. It's scary, Ludwig. That's all, really. I'm confused and a bit scared of what might come. Or… maybe more than a bit."  
Finally Germany seemed to understand. He sat back with another nod. "So am I," he admitted softly. "But I think it's best to just… go with the flow. So long as you're still here, I'll accept that. It's not like I want you gone, after all. So why should I question how and why you're still around?" The nation smiled warmly at his elder brother. "Some things aren't meant to be found out."  
Hearing these words, Gilbert couldn't help but sigh deeply. "Sure," he muttered in response, a little irritated by the thought of it. "But if that doesn't make the not-knowing any easier, what difference does it make?"  
Now Germany just gently placed his hand on his elder brother's shoulder. "We'll get through this either way," he said reassuringly. "You and me both."

* * *

A day later, the moment was getting ever nearer that Gilbert would have to explain to all the nations in the world what had happened and what was going to happen from now on. Except that he still didn't know the answer to the latter part himself. He had finally spent time thinking about what he was going to say, but he honestly just wanted to say what he had to say and just get it over with. In and out in under five minutes, without letting anyone ask him unnecessary questions.  
At least he had Germany with him at all times, and now, with the meetings about to start, he had Hungary, Austria, the Benelux and North Italy to fall back on if he needed to, also. Why couldn't he just let them be the only ones knowing about this? Why did he have to stand there, look the world in the eyes and tell them all that he had failed as a nation. He wasn't a nation anymore.  
Right? He wasn't a nation anymore, so why was he still in existence at all? He had decided to go by his original, human name, sure, but nations couldn't just become humans for real. Or could they? It was a theory that had been floating around in his mind for only a couple of weeks, really, and he was still sceptic as of yet. But the longer he lived on after his final dissolution, the more time he spent in his current state, the more that ridiculous theory seemed to become less ridiculous.  
If he was human now, he wasn't quite sure what that would mean for him. In his 800 years living among humans, having encountered countless more humans than there would ever be nations in the world, he should have figured out completely what humanity was like. He should have, but he hadn't. He simply had never spent sufficient time thinking about what it would be like to be human to have a clear idea. Not since he'd last believed himself to be human, centuries ago, when he'd been young and naïve either way.  
If he _was_ human now, what would happen to him? Would a nation-turned-human age like normal humans did? Would he be as susceptible to disease like normal humans? Or would his origins as a nation leave him with a lasting agelessness even now, or make him age slower, and keep his immune system intact and, though weakened, still stronger than that of the average human being. He simply didn't have a clue, and he was dying to know for sure what he was right now and what would happen to him. The only person who could have known was the Holy Roman Empire, but he had died so soon after his dissolution, he had never had the time to find out anything worthwhile.  
Austria and Hungary had reminded Gilbert of how they had kept Holy Rome away from humans in his last weeks, out of fear that what they had later found out to have been tuberculosis might have been contagious to those 'lesser beings', which, in regards to disease immunity at least, humans simply were in comparison to nations.  
But all that had been for the humans, not so much because they had believed Holy Rome had become one of them. It had simply made sense that they, as nations, would be safer when interacting with and caring for a sick person than humans would be. And after Holy Rome's death, they had never seen the need to seriously theorise about what had happened to the late Empire. And nowadays, not even conversations with Holy Rome himself had given Gilbert any real idea as to what dissolution did to a nation.  
He was still completely clueless. He was still afraid.

"You can do this," Hungary said encouragingly as they were about to enter the conference hall. "Believe it or not, you always seemed to have a knack for public speaking."  
Gilbert felt dizzy. "When it was to soldiers before a battle, yes," he replied stiffly, trying hard to control his nerves. "I'm not exactly known for my eloquence in any other situation. Especially not when I'm so anxious I could faint."  
On the albino's other side, Germany gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "You'll be fine," he told his elder brother with a calm, warm smile. "We went over this. I'm certain you'll do well."  
Taking one final deep breath to calm himself, Gilbert nodded and pushed open the doors.

Inside, most nations were already gathered, and they turned to look at the newcomers immediately. France, who had been speaking, opening the meeting no doubt, fell quiet and looked at them also. "Ah, there you are," the old nation greeted them, completely calm. "You're a little late, I'm afraid. We were about to start the meeting without you."  
Germany walked forward, unfazed by all the stares it seemed, and gently pulled his elder brother along, who followed him a little less willingly. "Yes, about that," the young nation said to France as he walked toward him. "My brother has an announcement before the meeting commences. I hope that has been taken into account?"  
France seemed a little confused, but not surprised, and he nodded. "Certainly. It's right here in the schedule for today. If you wish to do so now, Prussia -that is, I assume we should call you that again? Anyway, the floor is yours, so go right ahead."  
As pleasantly surprised as he was over France speaking to him without any hint of malice, Gilbert still nearly flinched at his words. "Yes, well," he replied in a soft voice, only just about able to keep himself from stammering. "That's what I'm here to talk about today, actually."  
Instead of leaving so that Gilbert could start, the Frenchman looked at him for a moment longer, something flashing in his blue gaze. "Are you all right?" he asked, softly so that no one else could hear, a worried look on his face.  
Gilbert shook his head. "Please just let me get this over with. You'll know in a moment."  
Finally France stepped aside, sending the Prussian a last glance before heading to his seat.  
Thankfully, Germany stayed right beside Gilbert as he went to stand behind the microphone. The ex-nation felt himself shiver as he took his place, unable to look at the other nations. Yet again, he took a deep breath. Then, finally, he started speaking.  
"F-first of all," he began in a quivering voice, pausing for a moment to control that again before he went on. "To answer France's earlier question: no, I am not to be called Prussia again. I'm not East Germany anymore, either. To be brutally honest, I do not know what I am right now." Finally he looked up, glancing at the nations who were all staring at him, listening intently. "But I'm not a nation anymore. Therefore, I have decided to go by a different name, one that some of you may already know. This is my last time coming here, but in the event that you do see me again, please just call me Gilbert Beilschmidt, as that is what I wish to be known as from now on."  
Looking around, he could tell that there were a few nations who already had questions burning in their minds, right on the tip of their tongues. But he had been serious when he had decided days ago that he would not accept any of them. "I do not know what I am right now," he repeated clearly. "I do not know what will happen to me from now on. Please don't ask me any questions, because chances are I won't be able to answer them." Starting to get choked up, he decided to finish this as quickly as he could. "So… Thank you. That's… all I have to say."  
He was just about to take a step back when someone spoke up, anyway, despite his request for them not to. He stiffened when he recognised the voice. "Gilbert, laddie," Scotland said through his own microphone, sounding calm and somehow reassuring as always. "I do have one question, although not for you. I do think it might be good for you to stay and wait for the answer." The Scot glanced around at his fellow nations, seemingly checking if he had everyone's attention. "I think we can all agree that no one here knows what Gilbert is at this moment," he said to all the others. "But can we also agree that, no matter what the answer to that might be… he'll always be one of us."  
Some nations glanced at each other for a moment. The first to speak up after this, to Gilbert's surprise, was Spain. "Of course," the Mediterranean nation said, looking directly at his old friend. "What else did you expect?"  
"Dissolution doesn't change any of that, dammit," Italy Romano agreed not far from Spain.  
After him, other nations all agreed, too. It seemed like no one was against this, not a single nation. Gilbert could barely breathe as he took it all in. Only when he felt Germany carefully grab his hand, silently standing beside him, did he feel somewhat calmer again.  
Well, it was over with. And right now, he didn't think he could feel any happier than he did.

* * *

Gilbert stayed for the rest of the meeting, as there had been a seat reserved for him and he didn't really have anything else to do right now, either. When the meeting ended, he began to feel more anxious again. This was the time that nations could still come and pester him with questions he didn't want. He just hoped they wouldn't, though. At least not when Germany was with him. Stupid, though, how he depended on his little brother to more or less 'protect' him now. And that he had done so for quite a long time already, too.  
Of course, just hoping that he would be left alone wasn't enough to actually get that done, too. He was surprised to see it were Spain and France approaching him, though, and Gilbert actually had half a mind to walk away before they could start talking to him. But of course, he did no such thing, and ended up face-to-face with the two only seconds after he had spotted them coming.  
Spain smiled at him. "Hey, Gilbert," he greeted the ex-nation warmly. "We were wondering if you'd like to go for a drink with us."  
France nodded. Gilbert still couldn't understand how all the malice he had seen in France's eyes for most of the past two centuries could suddenly have disappeared like it seemed to have done. Most of all, he wasn't sure what to make of it. "We both thought it was about time we talked again," the Frenchman explained in addition to Spain's invitation. "If you don't want to, that's fine, of course. We're both perfectly aware that things haven't exactly been going smoothly between the three of us since… Well, since the early 1800s, really."  
Spain looked at Germany then. "And you're welcome too, naturally, if you'd prefer that."  
"Does that go for me, too?"  
Gilbert's heart skipped a beat in relief when he heard Scotland's voice again, and he looked past France and Spain to see the kingdom approach with confident strides. The albino began to smile hopefully, and France and Spain must have noticed, for they exchanged a glance and then shrugged, saying they were fine with it. France seemed a little more willing to allow Scotland to tag along than Spain did, though. Gilbert more or less knew that Spain was one of the few people that Scotland could not get along with very well, for reasons he did not know and also did not care to know.

Some twenty minutes later, the five men sat in a nearby café together, drinking coffee or tea; they had decided it was a little too early for alcohol yet, and part of the conversation to be had was definitely too serious to be interrupted by drunkenness.  
"So, Gilbert," France began after taking a deep breath. It was the first time that Gilbert got the idea the Frenchman found this as difficult as he did. "First off, I just want to say… Ever since the war, I've been working on putting everything behind me. Everything bad that has happened between you and me, I mean. You are, and always have been, a good man at heart, I know that. But back then, things were just… difficult. For everyone. I won't deny that I had my reasons to act like I did, and I did believe them to be valid reasons, too. Some of them, I still do. However, I don't believe I should let any of that influence my interactions with you now, and I also believe… _know_ that I have plenty of reason to apologise to you, too." He paused for a moment, gaze fixed on the table. "So… Well, I'm sorry for having hurt you in the past, in any way. While there were many things you deserved way back when, many of the things I did and said… You certainly never deserved any of that."  
Gilbert was taken aback a bit. Touched, too. He could tell the nation was sincere from the emotion in his voice and from his gaze as he looked at his old friend, waiting for an answer. The ex-nation wasn't sure how to reply, and eventually settled for the simplest answer he could think of. "Likewise," he said in a soft voice. "I could sit here and hold a speech like that, too, but that would plagiarism. And I don't think I could top any of that, anyway. But… But I do feel the same. Let's give it a try again, shall we? It's not like we've got anything to lose at this point."  
"Mind if I join the party?" Spain then asked, looking at both France and Gilbert. The two immediately said that it was no problem if he did, naturally.

"So, laddie," Scotland began a little later, looking at Gilbert with slight concern in his gaze. "Do you have any plans whatsoever? I mean, you're not… not a nation anymore, after all. So what will you do from now on?"  
Since Scotland might well be one of the few people Gilbert could handle getting this question from, the ex-nation didn't quite glare at him. Yet. "Didn't I say earlier?" he said with an annoyed sigh, looking out the window. "I've got no idea. None. I don't even know _what_ I could do right now." If he was uncertain of what the future would bring, or rather if he had a future to begin with, how could he plan ahead?  
Scotland held his gaze a moment longer without saying a word. He just stared at his friend with a knowing look. He hummed after thirty seconds or so. "All right," he said with a shrug, sitting back in his chair. "And what if I tell you what you could do? What you _should_ do."  
Surprised and confused, Gilbert whipped his head around to stare at the old nation. He kept quiet, but his questioning gaze said more than he could do with words at that moment, anyway.  
By now, Scotland was smiling. "It's simple, laddie: _just live._ Don't you see what an opportunity you've been given?" He leant forward again, still staring Gilbert straight in the eyes as he spoke. "I've never been very secretive about the fact that I envy humans. When one gets to be my age, the idea of immortality begins to lose its appeal at times, you know? We have a beginning without an end, or at least without a clearly defined one. Humans, though they know that there will be an end for them and that is likely to be within a century after their birth, have it better than we do, I believe."  
Germany seemed as confused as Gilbert felt, looking at the old kingdom with furrowed brows. "Why, if I may ask?"  
Scotland flashed him a quick smile. "I was just getting to that. It's because, no matter how long we live, we barely have any real choices in our lives. Don't you think?" He shrugged, gaze fixed on the table. "It may look like we have a choice in what we do, but no matter what, we must always put our people first. If we choose to be selfish and neglect that duty, it will come back to bite us quite quickly, and force us to make the right choice, anyway. We can't really choose what to do, we can barely choose where to live, we _cannot_ choose who to spend our lives with -that is, we can't marry someone of our own choosing or something of the likes. Humans have all those choices. Even if just to an extent, it is to a greater extent than any nation."  
Finally his words began to make sense to Gilbert. A lot of sense, even. Humans, even in their limited time on Earth, had more free will than nations did. They could choose to study or not, what to study, their occupation, their friends, whether or not to marry and to whom, whether to have a family… What wonderful freedom that was. Freedom of choice.  
Scotland turned back to Gilbert now, his pale blue eyes shining. "I know you may not be a human at all now," he said, voice overflowing with warmth and conviction. "But the one thing that's certain is that you don't have the restraints a nation does anymore now. So whether it is for another week or for a decade or longer, take this chance and just _live_. Do whatever you want. Have you never wished for anything that you simply couldn't do? Maybe now you can. Just try it."  
Feeling a spark of hope now, Gilbert started thinking. Was there anything like that? Before he could come up with anything, Germany spoke up beside him. "I remember from your journals that you have always wanted to go to university," the young nation suggested as he smiled at his elder brother. "And I know you mentioned you more or less did, but you never _really_ did, did you? Why not give that a try?"  
The hope faded away again, and Gilbert laughed hollowly. "Yes, and how do you suppose I should do that? Nowadays, more than ever before, you need certain credentials to get into university. I've never even been to _primary school_. They'd never accept me."  
"Gilbert, come on now," France protested to this with a huff. "You have 800 years of knowledge and experience. And if just that is not enough, then the fact that you're a _genius_ definitely is. You absorb information like a sponge, to the point it can even get scary sometimes. I cannot and will not believe that there's not a single university that would love to have you."  
Spain nodded, flashing the albino an almost mischievous grin. "Just pester them until they let you take an entry exam or something without all those 'credentials'," he said. "Then all that's left to do is to blow their minds, which, knowing you, you definitely will.  
"It's as you said earlier, Gil," Scotland then said, clearly agreeing fully with the others. "What have you got to lose? It's worth the try, if you ask me."  
Finally, Gilbert started to accept the idea of this being a possibility, no matter how small. Maybe he should give it a shot. After all, he couldn't know for sure until he tried, right? It was enough for him to have the support of his little brother, actually, but having more people encourage him like this never hurt either. He mulled it over one last time, then nodded, his decision made.  
"All right," he stated determinedly. "I'll try. Who knows? Maybe you're right."  
At least it was easy for him to pick a field of study. There was one thing that had always fascinated him and brought him great joy, after all.

* * *

It took Gilbert until 1993 to even have his first appointment within the university. But when he did, he was immediately faced with several people. The dean of the Faculty of Natural Sciences, even the rector magnificus, and then some professors. They were all looking at him curiously, if a little disapprovingly. Most of all, though, they seemed fascinated by him.  
The rector cleared his throat, announcing that he would start the conversation. "Mister Beilschmidt," he began almost a little doubtfully. "We have received several letters of application from you over the past 16 months, in which you have clearly stated your intention to study medicine at our university. However, as you are aware, we can't very well accept someone who has had no education prior to university. Even so, you seem to believe you have the capabilities to study one of the most intensive and important fields of all. Is that right?"  
Gilbert nodded calmly. "That's right, sir. I am aware that, with my background, it may seem unlikely, but I can assure you I already have sufficient experience in this field, both theoretical and practical. However, if I wish to pursue this any further now, I will need the credentials I can get only by studying at a university such as this one."  
"What I don't understand," the dean said, frowning a little, "is how someone your age and with your lack of education can have any experience in a field like _medicine_ in the first place. Can you please explain this further?"  
Again, Gilbert nodded. He took a set of papers from his shoulder bag and shoved it over the table to the humans. "These documents from the government should explain the situation more. I would have sent it to you earlier, but as you can imagine, they had more pressing matters to deal with than to help me apply for higher education; I only received these documents a week ago, myself."  
The rector started reading, scanning the paper quickly. Gilbert could guess which part he was reading when suddenly his eyes widened in surprise. "A nation?" He looked up from the paper and stared at Gilbert in disbelief.  
The albino was unfazed. "Ex-nation, actually," he corrected the man. "I used to be the personification of Prussia and, in later years, East Germany. However, after my dissolution, I appear to have lost my immortality along with my status as nation. It is why I've never had an education: back when I was a child, the only form of education available to me was learning from monks, which I did."  
One of the professors spoke up now, too, after having had a quick look at the documents. "And may I ask your age, then, mister Beilschmidt?"  
"I'm 802, although the passport that is currently being made for me will state that I was born in 1970, making me 23 years old at the moment."  
The human looked perplexed. Still he continued with his questions. "And how many years have you been involved with medicine?" he asked, sounding both astounded and hesitant.  
Gilbert remained calm and expressionless, for the humans' sake as much as his own. "That would be since 1742; I started studying and working with field medics in the Silesian Wars. So that would be some 230 years by now." He couldn't help but boast a little, hoping it would help his chances rather than hurt them. "In the First and Second World Wars, I was actually a renowned medic in the German Army," he stated. "I'm not entirely sure if any records of that still exist, but surely there will be some." Tensing up a little, he added more softly: "After all, it was only in the Second World War that the government tried to 'erase' me, for reasons I'm sure you understand."  
For a moment, the men looked shocked, exchanging a dismayed glance at this information. It was the dean who recollected himself first, cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. "If there are any such records left, it would be great if you could send us those in due time."  
The rector nodded in agreement. "For now, I believe we should read these documents you have brought us first. Based on the information provided in them, we will have to discuss this matter further. We'll let you know our decision as soon as we've come to one."  
Gilbert was surprised. He had thought he would be there a lot longer than this. But then, they likely hadn't been prepared to have an ex-nation apply to their university. He could understand very well if they needed time to look into this and let the information sink in. He was satisfied just having been here, having been face-to-face with these people and being able to explain what it was he wanted to do.  
So when they said they would leave it at that for today, Gilbert got up and nodded politely. "Thank you for your time, then," he said to them. "I'll be looking forward to hearing your decision. Good day."

On the way back out of the building, Gilbert couldn't help but grin to himself. No final decision had been made, of course he knew that. But still he felt closer to his goal than he had so far, and by now he was fairly certain it was only a matter of time before he could start his new life.  
"You saw their faces, Brand?" the ex-nation said, glancing at the Margraviate by his side. "I think they have pretty much made their decision, really. They just don't know it themselves yet." He barked out a short, confident laugh, grinning even wider. "And the Legendary Black Eagle spreads his mighty wings once more! I've still got it, Brand. I'll blow them away with my awesomeness if they just give me the chance."  
"And you will get your chance," Brandenburg agreed with a warm smile. "I'm glad you're doing so well again. In that first year…"  
Gilbert shrugged. "In that first year I was confused, scared and had no goal. I'm still confused and somewhat scared, too, but at least I have something to work towards now. I just needed something to take my mind off it all, I guess." The albino smiled wide, his entire body filling with warmth. "I will study and enjoy myself for as long as I have the chance, and if I live long enough, I will even get the chance to make up for all my years of bloodshed." The moment he said this, he stopped smiling, his stomach twisting in shame. "Or, at least, I will get the chance to try. I know I've been healing for the past 230 years, but for 150 of those years, I've also still been killing, just like I did in the nearly 600 years before that. I don't think anything will ever be enough to make up for it."  
Brandenburg stared at him wide-eyed, surprise and some sort of shock in her gaze. Then she blinked, her expression calm again. "Just the fact you're still thinking about that after so long should be enough, my dear," she told him. "Don't worry about any of that."  
"I won't let it rule my life," Gilbert responded, a tiny smile back on his lips. "But if I can manage to make up for at least some of my mistakes by following my dreams and ambitions now, then that's only better."

* * *

It took a little while before Gilbert got any further response from the university. At first it didn't seem to bother him much, but Germany noticed that, after three weeks, his elder brother's mood was faltering again. The young nation could only hope that those people would come to a final decision soon, and even more did he hope it would be in Gilbert's favour. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that the ex-nation _needed_ this chance, if only for the distraction it would bring him. And he deserved it, too. He was more than intelligent enough, and he clearly wanted this so much.  
 _Please let this work out for him…_  
Six weeks after Gilbert had his appointment at the university, he finally received a letter from them. Germany had been feeling warm all over when his brother had read the letter to him with red eyes shining with joy. The board had decided to give the ex-nation a chance to prove his capabilities to them; he would be allowed do the entrance exam, and based on the result he got there, he would be judged like any other applicant. If he passed and was high enough in the ranking, he would be accepted. If not, well… Then he wouldn't be.  
There were two months between then and the entrance exams. In those two months, Germany saw his brother a lot less than before: Gilbert would lock himself in his room for hours on end, reading books he had borrowed from the library or bought specifically for his preparations. He studied almost every single day; on the weekends he allowed himself time off, although that wasn't true for every single weekend, either. The closer the exams got, the more his 'free time' consisted of what he called 'casual studying': reading the books he needed in a more relaxed manner than he did when he was studying hard.  
Germany thought he should take it easy from time to time, but he also didn't stop Gilbert from working like this. If this was what he needed to be absolutely sure he would pass, then that was all right. He could relax after the exams were over, up until the first term would start a few months after that. "Provided I pass," Gilbert had replied with a huff when Germany had said this out loud once. The nation had just smiled. Of course he would.

After the exams, Gilbert came home with quite a relaxed air about him indeed, and he claimed to be confident enough that he did well. But as time passed without getting results back, that confidence seemed to wither ever so slightly. Germany guessed it was the long wait that caused uncertainty after all.  
But eventually the day came that Germany found a letter among the mail that came from the university. He had half a mind to open it right then and there, curious as he was to find out just how well his brother had done. But he knew better than to do so, and instead he called Gilbert quickly.  
The ex-nation sent his younger brother a curious look when he walked into the living room. Then when he spotted the envelope Germany held up with a smile, any trace of colour drained from his face, but his eyes began shining.  
"Well," he eventually said dryly, "that was about time, don't you think?" He took the envelope from his younger brother slowly, absent-mindedly, and stared at it for a few seconds.  
Germany couldn't help but be amused. "Well?" he urged him. "Are you going to open it or not?"  
Gilbert didn't respond immediately. "If I didn't pass…"  
"Of course you passed."  
"But what if I didn't?" The albino's red eyes sparked with anxiety for a moment. "All that work for nothing. And then what should I do with my life instead?"  
Germany shook his head. "There's no need to think about any of that," he assured his brother. "If you open that envelope, you'll see."  
Finally Gilbert nodded and carefully tore it open. He took a deep breath before taking out the letter, but didn't hesitate to unfold it and start reading.  
Germany just waited, his heart racing in excitement. When Gilbert's eyes widened in surprise and began shining in wonder, it even felt as if his heart skipped a beat, and he held his breath for a moment.  
"Tenth…" was the first thing Gilbert managed to choke out. He didn't seem to believe it. Wide-eyed, he looked up at Germany then, and repeated: "Tenth."  
Germany didn't quite register it, either. "Tenth?" Deep down he knew what it meant, of course, but it didn't process.  
A smile spread on Gilbert's face. "I made it to tenth place. My score is actually in the _top ten_. Do you know how many people took that exam, Ludwig?" The ex-nation laughed for a moment, releasing his tension in that moment. "A couple hundred. A couple _hundred_. And I'm the tenth best." He laughed again and swung his arms around Germany in pure joy. "Okay, okay, you were right," he said, still chuckling. "I guess I really am awesome. I mean, those others have all had previous education, and more recently, too."  
"But then," Germany said, giving his elder brother a gentle nudge. "Don't forget you have more experience than any of them. You can't go off on education alone."  
"No, clearly!" Gilbert put the letter down on the table, still smiling wide. "I sure showed those people, didn't I? Saying I couldn't possibly study at their university because I never went to school… No school in the world can teach you more than one can experience in all the centuries I've lived."  
Germany felt nothing but pride at that moment. He'd known his brother had done well, but he hadn't anticipated he would do _this_ well. He really was a genius. "So what's next?" he asked with a grin, although he was fairly certain he knew the answer.  
Gilbert grinned proudly. "Preparations, of course," he answered. He looked the happiest he'd been in a long time. "Then in September, I'll start my new life."

* * *

 **So yeah, I kind of had this planned from the start: Gilbert studying medicine. He will have this certain field of specialisation, too, but that's for a later chapter.  
**

 **And about that, I was hoping I could get some opinions on something: I basically have Gilbert's life after this planned out entirely, but it's material for too many chapters to still add to Hope to Die. And also, I don't think it should be part of Hope to Die; it would be kind of out of place, I believe.  
It will likely be written either way, but would anyone be interested in reading the 'epilogue', so to say? If so, I will post it eventually.**

 **Either way, there's one or two more chapters for Hope to Die. I didn't quite realise how close I was to finishing this story until I wrote that sentence just now. But darn, it really is almost over.  
Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me so far. I've said it many times and I will always keep repeating it: you're awesome, and I can't thank you enough for all the feedback you've given me, the joy of seeing others enjoy my work. It really means more to me than I can say.**

 **Well, I hope you'll be around for the last (few) chapter(s), too!**


	52. Chapter 52

**Well, wow... It's here.  
It's the last chapter.**

 **This has taken me so long to write, I almost can't believe it. Cross Your Heart and Hope to Die took me almost 30 months to write. More than two years of my life went into this (well, my free time, anyway) and I don't think I could have spent it any better. I have loved writing this story from beginning to end, despite the bad cases of writer's block I have occasionally had to deal with. Or actually, more often than I liked ^~^'  
But it was an awesome ride, and I think I can rightfully say I'm proud of creating this story.**

 **Thank you all so much for the support you've shown me over the years. You have no idea how much joy you've all brought me simply by reading and enjoying this story, and of course, all your kind reviews helped a lot, too!**

 **But I can promise you that, even though the main story has come to an end, the story is not over yet! If I can find the time and inspiration, I will write the occasional spin-off like I've done before, and of course, the Epilogue is up next! I have no idea for how many chapters that will run, but it's definitely going to be Multi-chapter. Shorter than this, though, I hope.**

 **Well, I hope you will enjoy the final chapter, and from the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much!**

* * *

Well, he could have seen this coming, of course.  
Gilbert had just walked in to his first lecture. The professor was already there, so were some 20-odd fellow students. And the very moment one or two of them looked up to see the new arrival, they nudged others and turned their attention to Gilbert as well. Even the professor gave him a curious stare for a moment, although he was more restrained than the students, who didn't even try to hide their surprise and fascination.  
Gilbert sighed. He had guessed he would have to deal with this more often, now that he spent most of his time among countless humans. Especially among future doctors and biologists, albinism simply attracted a lot of attention. He just returned the stares his fellow students sent him, his gaze hard and challenging.  
But then the professor spoke up, and the ex-nation looked at him instead. "You must be Gilbert Beilschmidt," the man guessed. "Welcome. Take a seat."  
Gilbert nodded and said a short greeting. The students still hadn't stopped staring, and he felt quite uncomfortable. _Great, really,_ he thought with an annoyed huff. _Day one, and I'm already a celebrity._ He had known beforehand that the professors had all been briefed about him. He'd been told as much a month ago. He had agreed to that: after all, those people would likely be better off if they knew they were dealing with an ex-nation, not just any human. That the man recognised him just by looking at him, though, told him they'd been briefed about his albinism, too. _But of course, I'm a medical wonder, aren't I?_ He really didn't feel comfortable under all those stares. _An albino who can function normally under the same circumstances others can. No skin cancer, no excessive sunburns, no blindness…_ He counted himself lucky that, though his immortality was likely gone, his health didn't seem to be any worse than before. At least, he didn't seem to need to take all the precautions human albinos did, and his sight hadn't gotten any worse yet. If his luck didn't run out, it would stay like that.  
Right. Time to end this. "Are you done staring now?" Gilbert snapped at the students. A few more had walked in, and they had joined the staring contest. Some of them flinched at his sudden outburst, others looked away guiltily. Gilbert sighed loudly. "I am well aware of my own condition, there's no need to keep reminding me. All right?" No one said anything, but they all stopped staring now. Well, all except the ones who came in after that, but he didn't want to repeat himself. Thankfully, there were too many people for him to still catch people's attention straight away.

Soon after, the lecture started. The professor introduced himself first: he was a surgeon who worked part-time at the university to teach biology. After that, he quickly went on with the lecture itself. It was a long sit and a lot of information that was being thrown at them all at once. Thankfully, it wasn't much of what Gilbert had never heard or read before. He still made notes about everything, though, even the things he could recount in his sleep if need be. They might come in handy sometime, after all.  
There was a 20-minute break halfway through. Gilbert's mind wandered off then. How much his life had changed in so short a time. Just a few years ago, he had been East Germany, one of the most successful nations in the Eastern Bloc, part of the Warsaw Pact. Just a few decades ago, he had still been Prussia, Free State within Germany and former Kingdom. There had been a time when he would have looked at his current situation and wondered how he could have ever fall so low: he was weaker than he had ever thought he'd be, he was more than likely no longer immortal, and he had never been less influential than he was now. Right now he could only think of this as progress, personal growth, a chance to be someone again. He was proud of where he was, what he was doing, and he was curious to find out what the future had in store for him. He was more hopeful about his future than he had been for a while now.  
If things had been different in the past, maybe he could still have been in a better place now. But considering everything that had happened in the past century, he didn't think he could have it any better than he did now. He was quite happy, and hoped he could only become happier as time passed from now on.

* * *

His very first lecture had just ended, and already did Gilbert have a number of assignments for homework. He still had one more lecture later that day, and he guessed he would get more assignments then. But that was all right. He was here mainly because he needed something to do, after all.  
For now, though, he just needed to find a way to get through the next three hours. He did plan on making some of his homework, of course, but he didn't feel like doing so all the time.  
"You could explore the campus some more," Holy Rome suggested calmly. He spoke so out of the blue that he startled Gilbert a little. The late empire smirked at this. "This place looks interesting enough. There's bound to be a bookshop, or maybe a café. Plenty of options, anyway."  
Gilbert nodded, going over those suggestions in his head. "I suppose a café sounds like a good choice," he mused. He grinned at his elder brother. "Care to join me?" he said teasingly.  
"Hey now," came a new voice, a little indignant. "Shouldn't you rather take your wife to a café?"  
Gilbert chuckled, looking to his other side to see Brandenburg walk beside him now, too. "But of course," he replied, softly so as to not appear he was talking to himself. At least not to many people. "You should both come, even."

It took only a few minutes to find a café on campus. It wasn't too big, not too crowded. On the other hand, it wasn't so small that it would feel crowded with just a few people there, too.  
As Gilbert walked in, though, he was immediately being stared at again. He was used to it, really; he couldn't very well leave his house without getting stares from nearly all people he passed. It had always been like that. But for some reason, he had been extra conscious of it today, and he couldn't quite put a finger on as to why.  
The people who stared at him most obviously received a glare in return, and they looked away soon after. Feeling uncomfortable, he sat down at a table in a corner somewhere, away from the window. That way, hopefully, people wouldn't stare at him like he was an animal in a zoo. He just grabbed his book there and started reading up for his next lecture as he waited for someone to take his order.  
Except he was by chapter two some fifteen minutes later, and no one had come to his table yet. He was certain he wasn't required to walk up to the counter himself, though, because there was a waitress walking from table to table. She just skipped his.  
By the time he'd been there for half an hour and no one had even talked to him yet, he was pretty pissed off. He just closed his book with a huff, put it in his bag, then got up. He walked over to the waitress as she finished up taking the orders of two students who had just walked in together.  
The young woman nearly jumped when she turned around and saw Gilbert suddenly in front of her.  
The albino just smiled coldly. "Hi," he began in a dry tone. "You seem to have missed my table for the past thirty minutes or so. If it's a problem with your eyes, I could lend you my glasses if you want. I'm done reading for my upcoming lecture now, anyway."  
The woman didn't reply, only stared at him wide-eyed, stunned silent.  
Gilbert sighed. "Well, all right, then. I'll make it easy on you: I'd like a simple cup of coffee, please. No sugar or milk needed. Now, can you pass on that message, as is your job, or do I need to get the coffee myself?"  
The waitress remained frozen in astonishment a little longer, then nodded, squeaked an apology and quickly made her way into the kitchen to bring both orders she now had. Gilbert just stared after her, satisfied by her reaction. He was certain she wouldn't make the same mistake again. Although, by now he doubted she would ever have the chance to do this again; he didn't think he would ever come back.  
The two students at the table he stood close to stared at him, stunned just like the waitress had been. But then one of them grinned and started snickering. "Dude," he said amusedly. "That was way savage. Has she really been ignoring you for so long?"  
Gilbert huffed. "I wish it was an exaggeration, but alas."  
The students exchanged a surprised glance. Then they looked back up at him, and the other asked: "You sure you wouldn't like anything with your coffee? Honest to God, I think you've earned it with what you just did."  
The first student nodded, snickering again. "She's worked here since two months before the end of last semester. Girl's never been shy about showing which customers she prefers over others, in ways quite like this."  
"It's that this place is still looking for a replacement," the other added with a more serious nod. "I've actually taken this up with the owner once -a chill dude, that man. He says he's hoping to be able to fire her soon, but for as long as no one applies for a job, he's stuck with her."  
Those words eased Gilbert's anger again. So it wasn't this café as a whole, but really just one employee who was this bad? If that was the case, then he might rethink his opinion of this place, based on what their coffee was like.  
Gilbert even managed a smile now. "Thanks for the info," he said to the two. "If that's the case, I hope he'll manage to hire someone else soon. This cannot be good for business."  
He just went back to his table and patiently waited for his coffee, which came rather quickly. He was quite satisfied with that, if he had to be honest.

* * *

Weeks passed, and Gilbert got more used to studying and going to university. Thankfully, after a little while, university also seemed to get used to him. He didn't get stared at as much, no one suggested studying him for a thesis (that had only happened twice). He was still avoided when he went to study in the library (but then, he didn't want to be bothered in that case, anyway) or when he went to the café. Although at the café, where he went regularly after that one employee was thankfully fired in the end, there had been this one instance where someone had actually sat down with him. It had been especially crowded in there that day, and honestly, the other chair at his table had been about the only free one left, so the person hadn't had much of a choice.  
That instance was considered somewhat of a miracle, though. Because that person not only sat down with him, but ended up talking to him, too. It had been quite nice, talking to someone. They met each other again sometime after that, in the library. They'd sat down and talked again that day. They also decided to keep in contact after that. When Gilbert told Germany about it, the nation had just stared at him in astonishment for a solid minute, until Gilbert shrugged and said it wouldn't be the first time he'd had an acquaintance he could talk to.  
Gilbert got through the first semester with relative ease and a few of the highest scores in his year. Then Christmas Holidays came around, providing some much-needed time off. It was his first chance to go to Vienna and see Austria again, and also Hungary, who would be there too.

Germany was happy to be able to spend time with his brother again. Well, more than they got the chance to do nowadays. Gilbert was home every day, of course, but both brothers were busy more often than not, and their less busy moments never seemed to coincide until now.  
As per usual, Gilbert was doing some last minute packing before they would go on the several-hour drive to Vienna. Meanwhile, Germany was looking at the small collection of Christmas cards they had lined up on a shelve. The annual one from the government, one from the three Benelux nations together, Switzerland and Liechtenstein, Austria, Hungary. Scotland, too, of course (and clearly he had forced his brothers to sign it, also). And then one from that friend Gilbert had. Out of curiosity, and also just because Germany had to pass the time somehow until his brother was done packing, he picked it up and opened it.

 _Dear Gilbert,  
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!  
I look forward to seeing you again next semester.  
Love,  
Larissa_

For a moment, Germany was stunned. Gilbert had never mentioned his friend's (or 'acquaintance's') name yet. Larissa? So it was a woman, then? Several weeks had passed since they'd met, and Germany hadn't even heard that part yet. He'd never asked, of course, but why had Gilbert never just told him more about her, anyway? All he'd ever said was how they had met and that they now spent time together quite regularly. Oh well, it probably wasn't his business, anyway.  
Still, he was curious about her, always had been. That had only increased after he'd read one particular sentence: _I look forward to seeing you again next semester._ How much was behind that sentence, exactly?Maybe he could get some information out of his brother, if they were going to be side by side in a car for hours on end. Shouldn't be that hard.

So when they were well under way, he decided it was a good time to bring it up. "So, Gil," he began casually. "I was wondering what that friend of yours studies. I don't think you've told me before."  
Gilbert shrugged. "She's studying to be an interpreter," he replied matter-of-factly. Some emotion that Germany couldn't quite place yet snuck into his voice when he added: "She's already able to speak an impressive number of languages, especially for a human in their early twenties. German, English, Dutch, French, Spanish and Russian. And that's just the languages she's fluent or near-fluent in. She's currently learning Chinese and Hindi."  
Germany hummed in surprise, impressed also. He dared to take his eyes off the road to quickly glance at his brother. It didn't surprise him to see the ex-nation's eyes shining with admiration. "And she's how old?"  
"Just turned 21 a little while ago," Gilbert said. "She's in her second year now, so she's got a year and a half left to go before she's got her Bachelor Degree. Apparently, she'll have an internship next year, too."  
"Sounds like a busy life," Germany commented, narrowing his eyes a little. He really was impressed. He'd been around over a century longer than that woman, and he only spoke about half the number of languages she did. By now he had German, English, Dutch and Italian down, and could hold short, simple conversations in Japanese and Hungarian. And honestly, those were almost all languages he'd learnt from family and friends; English he'd learnt just because it was turning into the _lingua franca_ of almost the entire world. How could a person find the time to learn so many languages in such a short time?  
Germany decided to ask about other things also then, just to avoid talking about Larissa all the time. Also because he was truly curious, of course. "And others?" he asked. "Do you have any other contacts by now, too?"  
The ex-nation nodded. "A few. Remember I told you about that group project?" When Germany nodded, Gilbert smiled a little. "Well, those people have actually started up small talk with me once or twice. And they're not the only ones who finally seem to have dropped the whole 'that albino guy is weird' thing. In fact," he added, his voice filled with excitement all of a sudden, "barely anyone in my year still stares at me. There are a few who follow only certain courses -as a minor- and, well, they barely see me compared to the others. I suppose it's normal it will take longer for them to get past that."  
Gilbert kept on talking about this, and Germany smiled to himself. Of course he had noticed that, at the start of his academic career, Gilbert's confidence seemed to have received quite the proverbial punch to the gut. In fact, after his first day, he hadn't been very talkative and had gone to bed early. To anyone who didn't know him better than that, his behaviour might have looked like a sign of him just being drained after a long day full of new impressions and hard work. Germany, on the other hand, _had_ known better, and he was fairly certain Austria and Hungary, to name a few, would have, too. It looked like he was doing a lot better now, and Germany hoped it would stay that way.  
If anyone deserved some smooth sailing by now, it was Gilbert.  
 _Let this go well for him…_

* * *

Hungary was already there when the two brothers arrived at Austria's house, and both nations greeted them warmly.  
"I hope you had no trouble on the road?" Austria asked as he helped his cousins with their bags. Hungary, meanwhile, was getting Germany's dog from the backseat, and Austria chuckled for a moment when Berlitz covered her face in excited licks before turning back to Germany and Gilbert.  
Gilbert sighed in slight annoyance. "Other than two parking lots having been completely occupied on the way, which meant we had to keep driving for well over an hour longer than we'd planned before our break, not really."  
"It wasn't that bad," Germany added, rolling his eyes at his brother's exaggeration. Sure, it had been annoying, but it had by no means been 'trouble'. He smirked a little. "If anything, the only real trouble we had was Gilbert still being unable to properly drive any vehicle not made of cardboard."  
For this, the albino sent him an irritated glance and huffed, but he didn't say anything against it, either. He knew very well that his driving skills still left a lot to be desired, although he could at least keep himself and any passengers safe. Aside from the occasional bout of motion sickness, of course. Those seemed to be inevitable with him behind the wheel.  
"Well, you're both here and in one piece," Hungary commented from behind them. "That's all that matters. Oh, and Berlitz too, of course," she added to the dog in question, grabbing his face in both hands and cooing at him. Berlitz just wagged his tail happily, clearly enjoying the attention.  
Austria snorted and nodded. "Fair enough. Let's just head inside -December's never been particularly warm before, and I doubt that will suddenly change if we just stand around here."

Once everyone was seated and holding a cup of steaming hot chocolate, courtesy of Austria, he and Hungary started bombarding Gilbert with questions.  
"How's university life going for you so far?" Austria asked calmly.  
Hungary was more outwardly excited, blurting out a question of her own before Austria had even finished speaking. "Have you met any potential friends yet? You know social interaction is vital, right? Just don't become a loner, all right?"  
Gilbert snorted. "When have I ever been a loner, Lizzie?"  
All three nations just stared at him in silence, and the ex-nation stared back at them, then shrugged. "Point taken. But don't worry, everything's going just fine. Barely anyone wants to experiment on me for biology class anymore, waiters at the café I usually go to don't avoid my table anymore, people don't act weird when I talk to them anymore, either. All that is going well. As for my grades, well, I suppose you can guess."  
"Top of your class, I assume?"  
"Nearly."  
Austria and Hungary exchanged a surprised glance, and Austria stammered confusedly: "You mean… there are people smarter than you?"  
Gilbert gave him a weird look for this, then burst out laughing. "Uh, yes?" he choked out between is laughter. "Obviously. I mean, I've never been _taught_ in biology before, no further than 'here is how to stitch, disinfect and check for potential inflammation'. The rest was self-taught, and though I do admit I did a pretty darn good job, I must also admit that there are things you just can't teach yourself."  
Hungary chuckled at this and shook her head amusedly. "You're near the top of the class while basically everything you have learnt before this was self-taught. I call that likely being the smartest student in your year."  
With a smug grin, Gilbert leant back on the couch. "Well, clearly my awesomeness still has yet to wear out, I see," he said almost haughtily, although it didn't sound too honestly arrogant. "Good to know. I can still go by 'Mister Awesome' and 'Awesome Me', just as I like."  
"You'll never really change, will you?" Germany said, smiling warmly. He really was happy to know that, no matter how different his brother was from a hundred years ago, he was somehow also still the same person.  
Hungary then turned to Germany instead. "And how about you, sweetie?" she asked him in a soft tone. "Is everything going all right for you, too?"  
Nodding, Germany flashed another smile. "For once, I have nothing significant going on in my life," he replied happily. "Well, nothing but politics, of course. I'd say it's life as usual, but it's not been this easy on me for many a year. And you know what? I absolutely love it." There wasn't much for him to worry about lately, and he hadn't felt as good as he did in ages. The aftermath of the Reunification kept him busy, as well as international developments, but without anything else going on, he had enough free time to feel rested, no stress-inducing situations to plague his mind all day. He could work and then take time off to relax and still get everything done. He had his brother back and Gilbert was doing fine, too. Life had not been this close to being perfect since he'd been little.  
In fact, even back then, it likely hadn't been as good as it was now. He had simply been too young and naïve to understand the troubles of those times.  
"Sounds to me like things are finally working in your favour," Austria said, his dark blue eyes shining as he looked at both his younger cousins. "It was about time, too, if you ask me. You both deserve it." He took a sip of his hot chocolate and leant back a little. "I also have nothing major to report that you don't already know."  
Hungary didn't seem to agree to this, as she immediately snorted and gave him a wide-eyed, indignant stare. "Nothing major?" she echoed, a trace of laughter in her voice. "I suppose a name change is 'nothing major', then."  
Confused, Germany stared at Austria now, too. "Name change?" he queried, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "What does that…?"  
Austria looked a little uncomfortable for a moment, but then he let out a soft chuckle and shrugged. "Well, I decided to get myself an official surname, too," he began explaining.  
Before he could say anything, Gilbert nearly jumped in his seat, red irises twinkling. "Oh! Are you joining the Beilschmidt family?" He sounded strangely excited at the idea, and looked slightly disappointed when Austria shook his head.  
"I'm afraid not," the Austrian replied, smiling amusedly at his cousin's reaction. "That is, I don't need the same name to be part of the family, do I? No, I chose the name Edelstein."  
A silence followed, in which Gilbert and Germany both stared at Austria in surprise and slight confusion, until Gilbert brought out: "That's an, uh… awfully Jewish-sounding name…" He blinked then, quickly adding that there was nothing wrong with that, of course. But he did still look at his cousin with an unspoken question in his gaze.  
Again, Austria replied with a shrug. "I know, that's the point," he said calmly. After that, however, a look of sadness came into his eyes, a light of shame and regret. "I just figured… I've been thinking about this for far longer than you'd probably think. After everything I've done to especially that particular group of people, even if I was forced to do it, I thought it would be fitting to show some solidarity. This seemed like a good way to do it."  
And yet again, Germany felt a rush of warmth. "I think it's a wonderful name, if you hear the meaning behind it like that."  
"You really are a big softie, aren't you?" Gilbert added, grinning a little. But he, too, agreed that the Austrian had made a good choice for even better reasons.

The rest of the evening passed quite the same way. The four talked, cooked together and had dinner, the atmosphere always light and cheerful. But somewhere along the line, Gilbert stopped taking part in the conversation, instead staring out the window at the black sky absent-mindedly.  
Hungary eventually decided to bring him back from wherever his mind had wandered off to. "Is everything all right, Gil?"  
The albino nearly jumped, startled, but then nodded and smiled. "Sure, sure," he replied. "I was just thinking."  
"Obviously," Austria said then, a smirk on his lips. "Care to tell us what it was about? Although, if it's something we don't want to hear, please do keep it to yourself."  
Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Nothing even remotely close to it," he assured his cousin. "I was thinking about my studies. I've been learning solely human biology lately, and I've noticed some differences with what I thought was true for nations." A tiny smile played on his lips, and he stared at the coffee table. "I think nation biology might not just be human biology with some adaptations," he mused half to himself. "I think it's complicated and diverse enough to be a field of study all on its own."  
Hungary narrowed her eyes curiously. "Really? It's not just higher resistance and sped-up healing?"  
Gilbert laughed for a moment. "Oh, no, far from it! How do you think our bodies can represent the state of the country? In a human body, sickness can only be caused by mutations from inside, viruses or bacteria from the outside, things like that. Injury can really only be caused by outside influences, perhaps some diseases that cause open wounds. For nations it doesn't work like that. At least, I think there's more to it." He shrugged then. "I mean, is a 'bad economy' a virus? I don't think so. Yet it causes nations to fall ill. So then, does the state of the economy cause certain mutation within a body? It could be interesting to look into it."  
Germany took it all in with growing curiosity. His brother did have a point there; there were human doctors who specialised in treating nations aside from their human patients, but their knowledge of how a nation's body worked was often based on what the nation himself told them. And the more they worked with nations, the more they adapted to how their bodies worked. They would assume wounds would heal much faster than a human's, which was often correct, and that sickness could be treated more easily, too. But whenever that wasn't the case, it caused confusion, and the nation would have to step in and explain that there were exceptions to the superiority of their bodies over humans'.  
Gilbert went on: "I think… I think I want to study it. Nation Biology. Maybe I can even turn it into a recognised field of study sometime in the future. Past experiences have shown me that humans could do with some more knowledge on how we… I mean, how nations work. Just look at Wales: when he broke his spine, the humans must have told the poor man he would never walk again. He did believe that himself, if you recall. And then what happened? He healed. It took him ages, but he did. As for me, I may have had that stroke, and all of us thought I would always have to be careful, but just look at everything I've been through since then without suffering another stroke. I think there's far more to nations than we know right now, and I don't get why so few people have ever bothered to look into it. Why _no one_ has bothered to go further than taking on nations as their patients."  
"It sounds like an ambitious plan," Austria said, looking at his cousin with a proud gaze. "Just your type of thing. Go for it, Gilbert. I can't think of anyone in the world better suited for a task like this."  
Hungary got up and went to her old friend, leaning down to give him a kiss on the cheek. "He's right," she told him with a wide smile. "You can do this, Gilbert. Go for it."  
Gilbert nodded, thanking them both. "I will need to ask permission at the university," he said. "And I'm not sure how they will react. I've only had my first semester in my first year. I may need to finish my Bachelor before they let me do anything else. Maybe my Master, too."  
Germany shook his head. "Even if that's the case," he said to his brother, reaching to grab his hand, "that won't be a problem. You have that time, Gilbert. Don't you worry about that. You will make this happen."  
Gilbert smiled at him gratefully, his gaze warm and loving.  
Germany could only feel pride and happiness as he looked at his elder brother, the most amazing man he'd ever known.  
"After all, even though you may not agree fully, Gilbert Beilschmidt always has been and always will be the Awesome Prussia."

 _~ The End ~_

* * *

 **Well, it may say 'The End', but I think we all know better... ;)**

 **I can only thank you again for reading, and I hope to see you again on the continuation of Cross Your Heart and Hope to Die!**

 **(The Epilogue may be titled 'Time to Live', to contrast this story's title, but I think it's a little cheesy... I'm sure you can find it when it's there, though)**

 **~Bluesun**


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